My Job as a Poet

“my job as a poet   is to stare at a fountain   trying to come up with the right word…”

Blue Sunrise

“Sometimes you can’t see the sun when it rises.   Sometimes the clouds overwhelm….”

“Enthroned on the highest branch,  the crow sings  crowned by a faint half moon,  robed by the blue sky,  cawing the melody…”

“Yellow tinted sunsets on my pages fall and speak into my coffee cup…”

“Jasper wind pervades my soul And scintillates my nose.  I inhale a cool-warm breath. Of sleepy summer prose….”

“Elsa hasn’t come to our house yet,” she says, looking at the sky.  It’s the end of winter, and it’s 60 degrees…” A poem about southern Winters

“There once was a girl, I remember a girl who might have been someone who used to be me….” Here’s one way to remember a childhood.