a favoured over-estimation

Calmness leads to claws
flexing, with eyes
closed or keenly
narrowed and fixed on
the sleightness of
disturbed air between
my incoming finger tip
and his whiskers or

An assumed cute boop
results in bloodshed
or rough abrading licks,
my hand or his meal
depends on whose needs

A strange noticing
paralyzes my next
action, any reaction
either way, staying in
or leaving his clutch
will be painful and
forgotten and
forgiven before
dinner time.

Regardless, I assume
ownership of him,
his care, and any
injury that results
from loving him as
I do.

terra incognita

So much empty space
with no centre,
no start
each step might take
you closer to a point
or away from your

Each post you plant
tethers you,
each tack placed in this
only serves to show
its largeness.

Its all distraction-
a leaf,
that sky,
some sounds,
your thoughts,
and a feeling that
each glimmer is there
for you alone.

To look directly at
one specific thing
is impossible
you will need to
capture release
then capture again
to keep your attention

Inadequate luggage
carries meaning
no farther
than the next step
then it is unpacked and
repacked before moving
on somehow fuller,
wider, heavier.

Bread crumbs trail from
carry ons,
curious birds follow
chirping who are you?
and where are you heading?
but staying just
distant enough to escape
the clutch and scrutiny.

I sometimes feel
like the hunter
in a forest that
does not regard me
as a threat
in fact
it does not
regard me at all.

But lifting that rock,
even a centimetre
from the ground will
result in resistance,
small green living creatures
will tug and try
to bring that rock
back to ground.

Insignificant things
have their own gravity
and to not consider
their animus
is foolish
and greedy.

Just because
we can see each
starry pin point
in the night sky
we have no right
to reach out
and touch

can’t stop, even for one second

~for karen

this heart,
skipping rocks
with ease downstream,
constructing beats knowing
so little of the silly hopscotch of
the world, just the constant
push on its insides. no
wonder it spends
hour upon
hour pressing back.
with small miraculous feats-
one thought, one pump at a
time- all lines, blue, red, wish filled,
and fine- tell so many simple
stories on the skin
in sighs.
with a sure flow
so thick there’s really
little doubt for whom these
bellows toll. from where you perch,
how does it sound though? what
keys have you found? and
what traps have
you wrapped
around my soul?
at first I thought you
were a thief. oh this heart,
my gold, my light I thought you
stole it, instead you moved
in and built a life-
not soft or hard,
but just right.

sommes-nous de la poésie?

it will be 
an invocation,
a homework check;
what did we
what have we

it will be
hot meals
interrupted by
glass clinks
and kind words-
some warm,
some cool.

it will be
one of us,
across the room
from the other,
confident and
‘how do they know
that person?’

it will be
a negotiation-
who will
drive there and
who will
drive back?
then compromise
because one of us
took a last
toast for the

it will be
poems of us,
with a shared pen,
a blank page-
are we the
creators or
will it write

it will be
a memory play
taking me back
to our
first lines
and how everything
was prosaic
before i
met you.

what if we never were alone?

Just past the post,
keep walking.
Let your neck flex,
eyes raise, and
lock on a few future
Have patience.
Be gracious,
Then, step away
from devices.
Let loose
from disguises and
expect some fatigue;
face to face
is hard
with all of
this noticing

how things end

dust motes 

that dance in light

vibrations and waves

just degrees from

landing, collecting,

then stay aloft-

hoping they


become something

more than air-

a cool 

downward breeze 


a density forms,

motion stalls,

molecules still,

declare existence,

and demand

to be seen.