The Earth Has Feelings Too

silence is an earless solitary creaturewithout words alone in the damp eye of dusk a red clock balances barren time evenif its long arm is short and bluebirds boast words fly back to you like a memoryof winds blowing in circles catching leaves hummingbirds hover backward whencherished souls like white doves rise to heaven love…

Blood Petunias

coming from the land of the drunken sunwhere he ended and I barely dare becomeshe was a crow that brought us all togetherrum drizzling, thunderbolt winter weatherrioting lot she was afflicting all kinds of harmliving on those four acres of our teeny farmbleeding red petunias into fine white sandthriving while growing things on fertile landforgiveness…

Bowl of Sorrow

my eyes swollen, arousing now, the floor vanisheshobby horse clings to a ceiling that does not existfragments of skin reek of fear, never ceasingmy heart is pounding, breathless for airbecoming that boney, big-eared childyou are no longer kind to mepretending not to seefor I am cagednot free

God’s Armor

within vaporous evenings, I walk many placespeering at menacing eyes of half faces unmuzzled are voices that scream at the nightpeeling my skin in search of what’s right times resembling a tainted vicious algae bloomwicked demons escaping from their tomb the full armor of God is my comfort and shieldmy soul sanguine as a fertile…

Sneaking Out

escaping from illusory bars, brown eyes vigorously awaken to the night scales falling from them like Saul’s eyes, now no longer blind or fearful gliding into the music of the trumpet’s voice calling this mystically gifted one gardenia trees and whippoorwills trailing her for a song of evening freedom spinning around, she feels the soft…

Josie Was

Josie was a button without a piece of threada child that lost the happy and ended up with dread a dancer with no lessons, shoes, or hopeespecially after seeing dad tie her mom up with rope a sun without the color yellow or a single raya girl that got mad at God because he made…

Atacama Blooms

looks that peel my painful, prickled skin slowly off my bodystepping on me as if I were a small stone beneath the dirtbarely enough of a bother to remove this insignificant gritlost in the Atacama desert riding a llama who talks of my fatethere is a storm of grave proportion in Chile’s parched desertwithin a…

Ripe Figs, Mustard Greens, and Dance

  lamenting for a taste of fresh figs from childhood trees where, when dipped in sugar,they left a fragrant and honeyed flavor upon a young girl’s tongue seeing elephant ears surrounding the outdoor porch where mom would set a table smelling black-eyed peas cooked with salt pork, mustard greens, and collards fried hush puppies with…

Drowning in Silence

  in these final loud wounding hours,the sunshine like a rainbow so dazzlingthrough my open slits, I can serenely departagony in the iris of my weary eyebubbles floating up I tenderly sigh sleeping where the purple iris lay stillrousing now to sing a silky song to herbuoyant yet strong faith swells in her heartthe silence…