all misread or
unsaid
don’t
forget it
never ends
lets
pretend-
entangle again,
to shame us
eye to
same
as if
too smug
to
bow
in blame.
poems
i’d have posed higher
questions
knowing what i can’t
see now,
do you still read clouds
out loud
or
call doves
to your dreams
and if so,
how?
sorted out
of order,
years unpacked-
arranged backwards,
stumbling through
my clutter..
sheathing blunted
box cutter.
i’d love to
know
you
outside
photo frame,
see where that
grin may
lead
someplace
shady,
flash fiction
alive in
me.
took
tomorrow,
hoping today
would
look the other
way,
this old man’s
45..
flips all day,
any day
it skips, it
skips..
spin cycle
sick-
it
skips,
page one
rips..
page two
sticks to script,
time tripping
on loose
hands,
but
a drop
in sea of
man.
now available: guts of a tree (free of charge)
“cracks of forest twigs on dusk casting storm,
magnifying threats of harm.
held up in
arms.”
a (insert own adjective) collection of free verse poems available free of cost as word document and/or
e-book:
https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/guts-of-a-tree
or here:
my thank you, in roses on fire.
stay well.. inspired.
hands in the garden 
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