was going to text
good morning i dreamed of you
but i remembered
you’re on a different path
I don’t get to walk beside you
and that’s alright.

still.
good morning i dreamed of you.

It seemed like a good idea to drive off the cliff,  
when I thought all the roads had collapsed and disappeared.  

I threw the car around. 

It turned out,
they had only closed for maintenance. 

What: Removing spent blooms where they meet the stem.

When: Wait til they are dead or have been dying– Petals dried or drying, wilting. From spring to late fall. The flesh just underneath has yellowed or browned.

Why: If you don’t, the plant will convince itself its days of production are ending. You can have blooms through Thanksgiving. Or you can have a dead plant. Your call.

Where: On your garden’s edge of lullaby. Long before the stem browns toward the earth to slowly ease the plant to sleep.

How: Always remove just the head.

Note: If you’re learning the art, and pull one section of a starter marigold up from the rest, try replanting that piece elsewhere, for a bonus surprise plant.

Results of all above efforts: New buds appear after a couple good rains or a couple nights, whichever comes first.

Bright sunshine and lemonade on cool grass

Warmth spreading across my chest

Wide smiles, wet teeth

You’re everything to me

Familiarity, sincerity

Laughter bubbling out of our mouths

The gurgling of your stomach

I never want to leave

Trilling of a phone line

Spitting rain and heavy air

That ever present longing

I never want to be without you

Even on the dark days

With hope nowhere to be found

You make everything better 

Fates intertwined 

A soul cut in two

We were meant to find each other

A time comes when one begins
To wonder
Which of your things
Your kids will someday want.

Should I keep this
For the kids
Someday
Or pitch it?

Sometimes they tell you.
“Dad, don’t sell that painting,I want it.”
Or “I’ll never want that rocker,
You can pitch it.”

I did not know how often
The question crossed my mind,
Until my daughter was gone.

And the question,
When it came,
Had an answer.

He was a restless soul
Eager to fly free, to fly far
Away, across the plains.
Regretfully, I let him go—
Too fearful of long journeys
And too preoccupied at home.
Childhood crushes may fade,
His memory has not.
Even today.

black mold grows
in an old notebook…
abandoned 

lost women bag
ladies carry bundles
of grief  and broken 

baubles 

magic
women in ballet shoes 
and boots 

psychopaths in cemeteries 

suicidal mothers lured by 
blue bottles of 
lye leaving orphans 

on the street begging

mitochondrial DNA   
               dripping
                                indigo
over the moon’s wrinkled
                 face

Revenge
                    Let it Go