Day 4/30 of the Tupelo 30/30 Project (20170804)

sunshine-muting clouds
roll through the sky like fat cattle…


Want to read more? You can. My poem rain is available to read at the Tupelo 30/30 project page.

The prompt I received for this poem (the words sunshine, lollipop and rainbow) was from Kerfe Roig. You can find her poetry and art at method two madness.

Sponsor a poem! Donate to Tupelo Press! You can share poetry with the whole world by supporting indie presses. Go here for more details.

untitled (20170418)

the sun throws rocks at me
and my umbrella
shudders under the weight
of these fiery meteors

my hair reeks of smoke
tiny holes have begun appearing
in my shirt where the cosmic
ash has fallen

how i wish they didn’t carry
all that gravity with them
in addition to their smoldering


It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 18

Check out these sites:

wet sidewalks (20170118)

in the rain a cyclist passes
unprepared for the sudden showers
an orange ember glowing
at the end of his cigarette

petrichor and marlboro lights
and i am ten
and the streets are wet
and black except for the
sodium cyclops eyes of streetlamps
home has that familiar smell
and nicotine-stained curtains

lost in the dark (20161215)

you circle back
in this rain
retrace your steps to search for
that piece of yourself
you dropped

on the sidewalk?
in the gutter?

that thing you dropped
it is smaller than a snowflake
fragile as bones
woven of glass strands

and now
you say
i must go with you
to help you find it

i will bring a light
and hope my failing eyes
offer some assistance

on sitting through a rainstorm (20161126)

the rain overflows the gutter
a waterfall cascading
to the flowerbed

by the cold fireplace
i hear drops pelting
the chimney
wonder why a flood of soot
and nests and bones
doesn’t wash down
a cartoon tsunami

but the chair is warm
and there is peace
in the rain
a sleep-inducing rhythm
a gentle melancholy
that closes your eyes
but promises to open them

cloudy morning (20161024)

morning rain washes
everything clean
sidewalks, streets
air heaves with petrichor
and the scent of eucalyptus
thin crescent moon wanes overhead
masquerading as a wisp of cloud

today, two cars make u turns
in the middle of the street
what is not forbidden
is implicitly allowed

the sun, that smug bastard
burns through clouds
ruining this autumnal dream

but he draws my eye
like a pointed finger

two silhouettes
against a brighter bank
two souls
rising up on shafts of light

or a pair of angels
falling in slow

september sky (20160920)

out walking
under this late
september sky

promised thunderstorms
never saw a drop of rain
dirty mud drops
spotted the bonnet of the car
where they dried

the air stinks of rain
refusing to fall
and diesel
–petrichor and fuel–
making me remember
autopia and the submarine ride
at disneyland

they don’t
take paper tickets

the blue in the sky
a cobalt strike
like earth when
you take her picture from space
clouds rolling
blisters of grey and
not quite white

i remember autumn
by the smell of leaves
wet sticky ones–all wilted lettuce
and dry ones–crackling thin potato chips

bring on the equinox
i’m ready for a day with
an equal amount of light
and darkness