Creativity’s an eight-legged life-sized terror, has me cornered – those menacing eyes and crushing mandibles paralyzingly frightful – about to be consumed, I throw her
Narrow passages, spiritual spires set bar – minded not teachings, constraint of hypocrisy oppressed connection to God. (Written in response to Willow Poetry’s “What Do
Beneath mossy beards weathered faces watch, listen – silent witnesses.
Jumbo Jet they called her – fast on her feet, zooming in, swooping up trays, delivering with flight attendant flair. When did she turn to
Oh Spring budding promise innocence of green awakening hope, beginnings; hurried the impulse to respond, before scorching heat burns efforts melts ambition – Summer. (Composed
So my luck – father’s favourite child, me, no boy for him… he drinks – thousand morning scold – knows I respect, make peace and,