Wrote a few poems this week. Here is one from Wednesday that I think I am finished with. I am always open to comments or suggestions, especially as this one needs a title.


Words sometimes fail to appear
when they are most needed
and the voiced sound is choked
in a moment of disharmony.

The ears fail too
in their task to listen
to the rests between the noise
for the comfort that
is left to the imagination.

The skin neglects its task
to find the heat of another,
to seek out the embrace
of those hands, that press of flesh,
the one that says, Yes,
everything will be alright.

Spent a lovely day with some outrageously talented women scoping out a venue for a sort of performance and visual art open house. I snapped a few photographs, a few turned out rather cool. Here is a poem about a photo I took of my friend Lori.

A Photograph in January

There was enough light reaching through
like fingers, touching your face,
embracing the tendrils of scarlet hair
with the grace and familiarity of a lover.

A plume of lavender smoke
dancing in front of one eye
scented the air
with a clove perfume.

The wind tipped the black hat
just so.