Poem Category: All

In the kiln

firing the thoughts

I shaped for the vase

Her dance class tonight

such joy to utterly flirt

in these Latin rhythms

In our frying pan

the trout‘s rainbow

melts into butter

Old friends

they have the shape of you

red lingerie drying in the wind

First date

bubbles leaving

the warm champagne

Wet long-weekend

only the smallest stones dry

Tuesday morning

Empty platform

following the express trains

the morning‘s paper

Country town

train tracks


leaving



the urge deep within

Her birthday puppy

counting its black spots

in licks and giggles

Midnight rain

the holes crows make

moving in the trees