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musings & scribbles

Mother Moon

Mother Moon
                with nod
        toward stage of Earth;
     in fixed-gaze
         and without stir of wind,
     She washes through us
                fallen creatures,
                       gently rocking
                              World to Sleep’s domain…

love eternalized


whimpering pet left in rain to cleanse,


open door

and stay with you shall

’til crown of time banish us

to love eternalized.


    sunrun raindrops
    through back of tiger
            in orangeflorescence

Serenity Smile

how serene her smile in Summer’s facial lightings,

where hair of shined mahogan’silk rests in bask of Daylight’s father

frequenting Shore for despise of Shade and its

lower Beauty–

but though for stuttered moment pictured is her Serenity Smile,

fallen to love has she with other.

brokejaw ice

brokejaw ice like

   teeth             in crimson’d


one glass                [milk of

in halfdoze many   jawgum

left                       choke-spat

sparingly               to crystal

as though by         fresh-shined

     child                 and smiling]

           in LEGO’d fever

age’ed jack o’ lantern

age’ed jack o’ lantern,

your ash-caged jagged grin

finds reflection: me–
        awakened in
        smile of throat,
            cross of eye
                                              to eye
                    to close
                to smile again–

A summer at Milburn Place

Once again it was that time of year,

To plant, to mow, to set the dogs in rear.

For a month or two we would be gone

A time too short, but for Mum too long.

“The maid,” she’d say, “will care for the dogs.

I hope she doesn’t feed them like hogs,

as you’re so prone to do.”

With that, we packed and scattered through

To the truck left running in the yard.

Before noon we were a third there.

“Oh how I hope to see it soon,” I stared.

Out of my window were the grasses so well known

That each blade had a name, like Matt, Tom, or Joan.

And that sign still hung above them all;

“Welcome to Milburn Place: Closed for the Fall!”

It had been up since the early Twenties, or so Mum said,

Left there after the great man himself lay dead.

“Why do they not take it down?” I asked for the hundredth time.

“It’s their choice, Hon, not yours or mine.”

It was sad to see and worse to know

That Mrs. Milburn couldn’t let go

Of the only one her heart would know.

Yet, every year, with loving arms, she’d welcome Mum, me, and Flow.

We’d go camping, riding, even biking off road

In nothing but our trunks, something special Grandma sewed.

Even with the adventure we’d take,

I could feel Mrs. Milburn’s life begin to shake,

To tumble, out of control, until a smile creased her face

And we’d have our last summer at old Milburn Place.

constant glance

spin me

and watch me fall–

top-heavy with dreams of you–

this pounding in my chest

could it be

from you?

your only gift to me

without knowing i exist–

rash, but not completely clueless

to the ways of love

and everything that comes with it..

i know

a look

can’t be enough

to wrap me ’round you,

but can a thousand?–

each second

of every forever

that you go walking by,

turning slightly–

are you noticing me?

..hopes too great

to let them be right–

i’m always wrong

so nothing’s new..


that now

it’s you

that is right

without knowing

what you feel like

against me

in the darkness

of a candlelight vigil–

maybe tomorrow.

spider’d legs

spider’d legs
smooth-tapping in consistent beat
                           of eyes turning
                                                  falling by–
                           tap, tap, tap,
            first finger figuring rhythm of own

as you slept



last night



slept in arms grown numb but


i peaked at

your lips,

pucker’d in thought and lost in air;

i peaked


your lungs

rose breasts,

drew back,

rose again;



at your darkened thoughts

as lids played host



gone rambling;



in to see


adorned with shadowed-sheets whispering

‘do not leave us

once sun returns;

do not cast us from

your hips

a mountain of us made’

musings & scribbles