For Cee’s FOTD ..read more

  CLICK ON PHOTOS TO ENLARGE   For Lens Artists Challenge ..read more

Midnight Minuet Sneaking down the unlit hall, we take turns answering nature’s call, awaiting our own turn to sneak to the john to have a leak. In the darkness, we repeat this rather tricky hourly feat. Him, then her, then me at last. So are our nightly ramblings cast. It is not choice that brings us here to void ourselves of pop or beer. In fact, a full night’s sleep we seek— our intentions strong, but bladders weak. At eleven, twelve and one and two, sleeping is what we’d rather do. Instead, we do-si-do—just missing the next sojourner bent on pissing!   This poem is dedicated to a ..read more

  For Cee’s FOTD ..read more

Comb vs. Hair  Every day, the great debate as I attempt to set it straight. Yet despite how hard I try, it continues to go awry. The straight and narrow is not its schtick. It’s stubborn, willful, obtusely thick. It wanders from my planned-out way. Down former paths it prefers to stray. Daily, I attempt to guide, while it goes against the tide. Unruly tangles and snarls abide while I would choose to smoothly slide down tresses lovely, shiny, straight, instead, alas, it is its fate to wander this way and then that. (Perhaps it’s best to wear a hat when wandering away from home?) This hair ..read more

Tooth and Tendril Every day, the great debate as I attempt to set it straight. Yet despite how hard I try, it continues to go awry. The straight and narrow is not its schtick. It’s stubborn, willful, obtusely thick. It wanders from my planned-out way. Down former paths it prefers to stray. Daily, I attempt to guide, but my efforts it won’t abide. Unruly tangles and snarls abide while I would choose to smoothly slide down tresses lovely, shiny, straight, instead, alas, it is its fate to wander this way and then that. (Perhaps it’s best to wear a hat when wandering away from home?) This hair wil ..read more

Click on Photos to Enlarge. Welcome to “The Numbers Game #18”  Today’s number is 139. To play along, go to your photos file and type that number into the search bar. Then post a selection of the photos you ..read more

Plagiarist I track my sleepy footprints down to the salty sea, with only tide and sand to keep me company. Now and then a wispy cloud silvers the rising moon, breaking into filigree, then vanishing too soon. A moonbeam cracks the tidal swell and draws a slender line, whispering this story that now I claim as mine. Huddling on the outskirts of wave and slivered light, I nonetheless declare my self as part of this calm night. Sly interloper that I am, still all I hear and see opens up its arms and seems to welcome me.   For the Sunday Whirl the prompt words are: draw cracks sly sliver slee ..read more

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Yellow You were so red, so white. So much of you was blue. Yellow is what I missed in you— that brilliant optimism— that power of the sun. There was that black in you that cancelled it out. You were the artist who understood color the most. That color created by the union of yellow and black, you knew. Your white hair, confined in a pony tail or streaming down your back in your wild man look prompted strangers to ask if you were a shaman, or declare you to be one. That red that flamed out from your work, subtly put there even in places where it had no logical purpose for being. That red tried ..read more