Who knows what
birds flew the skies above
my birth, the gulp
of air, the curtains
open just enough
to let the moon shine in,
the big belly of her swaying,
sky reaching down to capture me.
At dawn such
tiny silence,
sunrise on morning glories,
more purple
than it
ever was. That wavy moment
between beauty &
desperation. The mother’s voice
rises as in prayer. Sometimes
when I dream
I think I am lightning
and then I am.


There is the temptation
to say no more.
You forget where you are going,
recede back
into yourself
away from whatever window
you no longer want to look out of.
Why don’t you ever tell me anything about your life?
It was your world and you
let me in.
For a while we house trained our god.
Space is a blooming flower
mankind would rather snip,
slip into a vase filled with water.
And I don’t know what happened to you
because you never told me.
I never asked.


I’m standing
at the top of hills above my town, listening
to the wind’s unrest.
Could these trees transport me?
Sweet grass confetti
strewn across the passage floor,
trying to reach
that calm.
Along the way
I find scatters of stones
but not the ones lodged in memory.
Brooks burble and gush –
I’ll skip change
on the river,
hold the key
in cupped hands.
I devour your voice.
With a spoon of stars
and thirsty down to pointed spine,
on knees
& hands as though to pray &
unafraid, a vast, open mouth
molten tongue, a tide of fireballs
(to act shy salts the tongue)—
I drink.

With lines from Aaron Slatten, Carole Johnston, Christopher McCurry, Douglas E., Edelweiss Meadows-Millstone, Gaby Bedetti, HB Elam, Jessica Swafford, Jim Lally, Joseph Allen Nichols, K. Bruce Florence, Karen George, Kate Fadick, KYstitcher, Larry Wheeler, Linda Caldwell, Lisa Miller Henry, Mary Owens, Melva Sue Priddy, mtpoet, Patti Miller, Rae Cobbs, T.M. Thomson, Teri Foltz, Tina Andry and upfromsumdirt.