Write. Roam. Repeat.

blossom petals drop

delicate, fragrant spring snow

drifting to the ground

I'm throwing coins into the Trevi Fountain. I'm reading Pablo Neruda to a much younger man who will never understand love or dispair.

My grandchildren never stay over because I'm never home. I'm drinking afternoon tea in the Tower of London. I send them post cards, "wish you were here!"

My Leopard print coat will be my entire personality. I'll wear it in the dead of summer with heart-shaped sunglasses, and nothing underneath.

I will always have manicured hands and never touch a dirty dish again.

When I'm an old woman, I will wear bright red lipstick

I will great everyone with a kiss

And slip 'em the tongue.

on my knees, scrubbing

spring cleaning, like a prayer

is a sacred act

Mt. Baker slumbers

winter rests a white blanket

like a mother would

night comes early, and

the trembling stars stretch and yawn

i sink into bed

the red leaves reveal

what we don't want to believe

the promise of change

the true butterfly effect

tiny hummingbird, jetting to and fro, hovering over a swollen flower, suspended in air

dipping in and out

next to the bees, you're massive!

you alarm the loudest and you're territorial

but you make time to stop and smell the roses...

and the salvia

the petunias

the columbine

iridescent blur outside my kitchen window

I plant that honeysuckle for you, hoping to catch a glimpse of your crimson body

quivering with effort

Mothers' suffering, head in the freezer

forgotten car keys

receiting hot flash jokes under her breath

that was the extent of our education.

Some women, curious and brave women, refuse to sit politely, knees together and wait for the toll of time...

and the poor men must watch in horror as "the change" wreaks havoc on their women

refuge from the sun

shade tree, does your name remain

every spring she unfurls delicately,

When does a tumbleweed finally give up? Letting go of any hope for rain, releasing her roots and allowing the breeze to carry her away?

Some tumbleweeds do stay put, collecting sacred dew, growing wide and tall, dotting the horizon with varying shades of greens and grays.

The wild west ones roll-stop, roll-stop, following only the wind's schedule, while others still, may end up as a brambly pile in a forgotten parking lot.

I bet you like pretty girls, basic girls.

Hometown girls that get their nails done and count calories.

My hands are stained of earth's flesh--deep brown and red

mounds of vermillion dough

bubbling and rising towards the sun

scarlet marshmallow bellies exposed

a stark silhouette

distant, preserved - cold mountain

✍️ HAIKU:

broken promises

like a twig snaps underfoot

heart falls to pieces

✍️ Untitled 1 (Astronaut)

Sometimes I glitch (out) and don't recall the time zone I'm in, or the country, or the city.

This happens quite a lot, but the disorientation only lasts moments. Some would feel startled or perhaps concerned about a decrease in their brain's malleability.

But I'm not troubled when it happens, and it happens quite a lot. I'll be more concerned when it stops.

As a Sagittarius, the astrological sign of the free spirit and traveler, I feel like my feet barely touch ground before I'm off again.

A shooting comet leaving a trail of stardust across the constellations.

Is it because no place can contain me? Or am I searching for some place to call home?

✍️ Password

Would you believe nature's password to be as simple as "home sweet home"? Or would it be encrypted, covered in honey and eucalyptus-- sticky and astringent, cloudy like black tea?

Shoe on the Ground

Oh my! This shoe has lost its foot! I barely believe someone took you off and just left you here.

Perhaps a bored dog plucked you up and carried you around for a bit in her hot, wet mouth, then discarded you when something else caught her attention.

Or maybe a heavy rain caught you off guard and you tumbled down the drop off, filling with muddy water and stones.

Seeing you there, on your side, all alone, makes me sad.

worn hands bind the twine

wrapped in green banana leaves

Christmas tamales