what once was a free oasis
now comes with a charge
and although the waters
remain a vivid cerulean
my eyes cast their own shadow
There are three basic types of people who play the lottery:
Those who do, thinking they will win.
Those who do, knowing they will probably not win.
Those who don’t, knowing they will never win.
Who are you?
Once, I craved
the tartness of raspberries
and drowned myself
in operatic arias
I stepped twice
to hear the echo
of my heels
The scent of lavender
brought me, again
though the flowers crumbled
in my fingers
I lived winter in ignorance.
I look at the yellow grass,
the stagnant pool of water.
If I squint, they are the heads of daisies
and a pond hiding tadpoles
and lotus buds.
But the bare-limbed tree
with its slender nude branches
begs me for invisible clothes;
these, I cannot fashion.
An empty rhythm
In the castle in the sky
A waltz echoes through deserted halls
The foundation crumbles stone by stone
She who was the princess
Rapunzel-length tresses threaded silver
Sweep over deep indigo and turquoise tiles
No prince comes for her
Neither courtiers nor friends
The music is mummified in her mournful tread
I have not yet crested over the hill
But the longest days have come
And the summer oppresses with a searing heat
I look for signs of withering winter
In every thirsting blade of glass
And find no joy in the hatchlings
With my own nest unlined and uninhabited
The dread of my imaginings hold me immobile
And paint a grotesque hydra beyond the apex
Instead of a pleasant valley of milk and honey
The mud and mire
It seems the rain will always continue
Pushing with ebbing strength
The toad tries to leap the grotto