Hands-free

With hands free my words can drip from this pen. From the peak of a mountain of consonants I can vowel at the moon.

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Christmas Parade

I have a box of snapshots taken from a Christmas parade. Glossy smiles I caught perching on a horse and buggy. Groundhog people rose

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Up, up and away

Last night my head leaped out from a car window. The wind inflated my cheeks like a parachute. My eyeballs turned sticky from the

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Clouds come crashing

And clouds did come crashing The flight of fluff fell under the weather Surely the heavens did grumble But earth stood still in her

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Tulip’s kiss

In the dawn I lay to kiss this tulip. I admit we’ve flirted now for days. Its face is cloistered in a tall green

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Hey life

Life. Do you hear that stomping? My giant was asleep for so many years you forgot his potential. I urge you make preparations. He

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Your skin is music

Your skin is my music I listen to it unfold The rapture of its tiny electricity You are a circuit to my battery Your

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Solitude

The court of public opinion had finally left the building. Minivans were packed full again and headed away. Trashcans jammed with confetti waited on

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When grass giggled

Simplicity came rolling down the hill yesterday for the third time. He plodded his way back to the top through a carpet of earthly

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