The dandelion in the backyard was still asleep this morning
When I looked out the downstairs window
I stretched my legs and opened the screen door
As the dogs ran to investigate if anything had changed since last night
A bowl of cereal then a drive to the thrift store
This curvy road is full of green grass and hills
I stutter in lyrics and catch my daydreams
Before they drive the car 
And I’m sick with that bug of travelin’
That feeling of smallness that I crave
Keeps the car in line
The eyes full of water
And the gut overflowing like a gutter full of leaves

On stormy seas she
kisses me, gentle kisses.
A tempest the same.

Plaster your name,
Little man

Sing your praises–
Prince of the beggars,
King of the gutters–

And don’t let mutiny
Keep you from building yourself up
All over again

Don’t let the twisted aches
Of those you call
Friend,
Patriot,
Citizen,
Be the cotton that fills the ears
Of the righteous,
That keeps you from everything
Your money can buy 

Don’t let the screaming voices
Of those you call
Less than,
Crackhead,
Failure,
Reach you in your ivory tower

Don’t let a rebuke of your shortcomings
Teach you anything
Other than how lost these sheep
Must truly be

Silk strands between trees trouble us
Flying insects in greater danger.

Electric eels surpass us in voltage
who knows what they think about.

and with numb fingers

my quaking mind the root rot

I smother myself

engines sound like the growl of anger
you’d here from bears
in woods way off 
not here in this little city
which thinks it’s a big city
and some ways is
until you stroll the streets on
a first Friday when the tourism
agency thinks it’s doing good 
but all you see are the same sights
same sounds
and meet the same people
you’ve known the whole time
living here
and it’s a sweet night
anyway
waiting in the drive thru 

i yelled out to the sea:
i just want to feel loved!

& i thought i heard it echo back,
but perhaps it was just the waves

Tarragon gone
Sage consumed
Thyme expired
Chives chopped
Basal used up
Only Rosemary remains
When you are left alone
lonely is the only word

Craving a reprieve from the monotony of work

I escape to the same paved path

My feet have memorized the journey

My heart could guide me with my eyes shut

Each day I pass my favorite apple tree

Younger than its courtyard counterparts

Bold and beautiful just the same

Last year

She was not content with blooming once

Defying all odds

She fruited again during the death of autumn

As her leaves fell her apples grew green

They remained rotting on the branch

After winter snow had arrived

I was mesmerized

Perplexed by this perseverance

She robbed herself the chance of wintering

In favor of reminding the world

That even in the most ordinary there can be

Magic

The jinni in my bones