I sail the sagebrush sea, green scent drifting,
and just as you tell me, scan the land
for elk and antelope, big-horned sheep,
jack rabbits, those suicidal pests, like Jessie said. Read More
The azaleas bloomed in February,
or was it March?
That sultry fading winter when
aromas rushed like blood
into fresh spring. Read More
Treading air over pastel cathedrals,
they rise, warm crema in caffe,
shot of rum on the rocks. Read More
I’m the best
of the lot of
red: Read More
The mothers came home,
lipstick smeared like jelly, lurching for coffee,
just freshening up.
The fathers, revived after a cocktail fling,
ties loose, hair tossed like high school boys.
Some walked me home. Read More
I am heartened
in this vast lonely land
by the room for affection.
Tundra swans swim in twos,
mule deer mingle, then muddle,
sandhill cranes remain faithful. Read More