In a dream,
I crossed the line into the divine,
and I found that my mind
could not define
in word nor rhyme
the grace, the place,
the space sublime
in that dream.
I only recall that
the face that I saw
filled me with awe
in that dream.
Though I sensed I must leave,
the image perceived
leads me to believe
that some day, in some way
that dream will replay,
and in it I’ll stay.
You feel it too?
This spark between us?
Lean in, my heart, and let it ignite
/
Loving you is easy
Like a slow dance in the evening sun
Like listening to your singing in the shower
Like ways I don’t even know yet
Listening to your steady heart
Choosing a new recipe
A routine to follow
An act to ensure
A promise to stay
This is another poem about the
color yellow
There will be more
Like the divine
It’s holieness is beyond a poem
But I shall try
with every breath
to show my devotion to that which glows
golden & bright
I’ll always be here,
part of me anyway.
I think we all will linger together,
making up the stars in constellations,
the salt particles in the ocean,
the DNA coursing through the veins of people who haven’t come yet,
but who are on their way.
We will be fingerprints and skin cells and faint whispers,
the faded signatures and discolored photographs.
Parts of us will always linger,
always and forever.
Evermore.
My day passes like this:
Silas is home,
Silas is not home,
Silas is home,
Silas is sleeping,
awake,
out the front door,
Silas is walking back in.
Women Shaped Bodies, by Laura Cranehill
each year / i wonder / if i’ll see them /
in the current / golden threads /
of dust and light / a poem
calling out / poems /
in the stone birdbath / chirruping / hello /
a stranger / from two counties over /
& still / it reaches /
& still each june / they come / again /
poems / little ribbons / i cannot touch /
catching wing / making a path / to
where i am / even here / in my empty
/ chest / of poems / i leave / my line /
in the current / poems /
threads tense and / slack /
the air
It’s a priveledge and pleasure to share this time and space with you all each June. Looking forward to 2027 already!
Fresh coffee.
Peaceful surroundings.
There is something
beautiful about a
quiet neighbourhood.
Once everyone else
has left.
Banana bread
the ultimate comfort food
a tribute of love
not too sweet
just enough to satisfy
simple to make if your bananas are ripe
tricky to bake
at risk of becoming overdone and dry
or underdone and caving in the center.
Much like our oligarchs
have done
to our economy
hoarding the wealth
stealing our futures
leaving the center
hollow and gooey
unhealthy for those
unwary enough to bite.
Brings to the mind thoughts
of Tantalus
and how he too sought to defy the gods
willingly sacrificed a child for a twisted purpose
Ultimately punished
with eternal torment
but worse
generations of doom
forced upon his descendents.
spiegel im spiegel
