TREES LEAN

Winter winds weep as they lay their sorrow in the folds of my dress Crows bleed feathers as their skin grows loose from painful hunger Brown eyes deposit luster within a hollow oyster where the sun hides Sepia runs a palette of winter grays upon the face of a swollen clown Whitewashed boulders bleached from a tired sun, mark her…

My new poem “Picnic and a Crow,” live on masticadores india

in the glee of a sapphire sky, the sun plays leapfrog with a cloudcake chinwags to cheese falling off the family’s tattered picnic tablelanding by hungry carpenter ants grateful to be done building a stable boys swerving on a swing sitting sideways long ago nailed to an oakwrestling, like a couple of bulls, a raven…

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…