A late summer sky so hot
you could cook extinction
on the pavement –
soon enough it will light the leaves
above my head
and they will burn to the ground,
comforting flames
before we cave to winter.
I am in harmony
with Nature here.



Late Quadrille for dVerse

We play Voce like backyard Bocce –
rolling our tongues across verdure,
verbiage, herbiage, lawntastic poems
we’re having ball –
trying to avoid the gutter
or splitting infinities –
we’re Bowling for Dollars
(OK, maybe not)
but for a braggadocio moment
we win naming rights
in the Garden.

For dVerse Quadrille and friends.

Dragony:

That firestorm
of nerves teething
when you need to shed
your alligator brain –

Because snakeskin
swallowed you whole.
Because, impossible to imagine,
you are both pig and python here.

That scaly lump in your throat
is you –
a stretch to get over
yourself.

For dVerse Quadrille and friends.

Upstart whimsy
says shake it up,
wake it up –
shake loose from under
that downy blanket,
down so long don’t know
which way is up,
preposterous preposition
gets a heads up noogie
man up up up and away
the whole skyward gizmo
upended

For dVerse Quadrille

the geese nervous
in the wolf grass,
their necks question marks
unanswered

fishhook rain worms
cast in the shape of query
spit out and drowned in pools
on the sidewalk

the river incult, incant, trolling its
inquisition questionable, a
what have you
mist, missed?

For dVerse Quadrille

We hammered words
into the soil,
our mauls spiking
“necessity,” “desire,”
staking guy wires
to raised intent.

And the sun lay on the wind
like a pair of work gloves
left on a roll of cable,
the evening and
coming rain,
our unfinished labor.

For dVerse Quadrille