Quadrille 75

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

Quadrillion – Nectarine

Jammed my head
into the mud, let

my mind root around,
thoughts coming up

roses or thistles or
rutabagas,

dirty minded sure,
but what price

glory and riot
of color, scent,

her wandering
in my garden, pluck,

bringing to her lips,
sips, like nectar.


For dVerse Quadrille

Quadrille – Steep

Steep is the color
of my true love’s eyes,
cave cliffs
where swallows dive

Like falling love
at breakneck speed,
gravity redlines,
blinding, see

Courage,
shy wings bend
first close to her body,
then straighten, extending

Strength in curve and rise –
Grace. Precipice. Desire.


For dVerse Quadrille

Quadrille 71

The wind homeless, shaky,
panhandling for drink,
then January blows into the street
like Dillinger from a bank –
it’s murder, fire exchanged in cold blood,
everyone diving for cover.
The not-so-great depression –
sunshine bitter, on the dole,
brother can you spare a dime?


For dVerse Quadrille

Quadrille 68

Wringing out all
forty-four winks of sleep –
the twisted rag of night
leaves wrinkled sheets
damp with sweat.

Carrier pigeons of dreams
in full retreat
back across the Channel,
messages in invisible ink –
I misread “blessings”
which means “wounded”
in Napoleon’s French.



For dVerse Quadrille