An Old Gramophone Lullaby for the Midnight Orchid of the BoweryI love Central Park in the Fall. The city feels fresher and cleaner for some reason. As I walked past the Zoo, I heard a kid crying. I remembered...

A dead or dying treeI’m sure just spoke to meAbout a secret skill called “letting go.”And further on my morning walkA leaf fell down to have a talkTo tell me what I certainly should know. In whispers soft as newborn’s...

 Muse in red to my labor blueblood on stone true yonder findswending beam 'round the healing bendcautious flames light cooling minds  connected wordssnake & flower serrated tongue for honeyed slayingclever beauty cleft & splayedsalamandrine crawling understuck on point to mending ember refining...

sadness snuggles me and I slip into her embraceshe is a heavy lady with a lot to saymy heart sinks then singsblue emotions slip over mewith an awakening I realize, I've been in denialhonesty in the moment is vitalhurt...