Grandma Posts a Picture

Noise is
other than
you singing a
grandson song.

Hands fan, flying
smile joins a new tooth
to the sky
waiting.

Rubber legs jangle.
Half sized slippers
grip the tumble not
beat.

Fascinating fingers
in the mouth 
treasured. The mind opens,
as wide as these eyes.

Hip Hope

I asked the inkster

if Chinese rock stars

get the ABC's

tattooed on their neck. 

Scripture scrawled

on my bicep

set up

preaching to  pierced

hearts and sugar plum dragons.

We had to abbreviate Matthew 10:38

to accomodate my skinny arm.

Should've went for Luke 14:27,

but I don't like to read ahead.

Doe Eyed Decimal System

Flirting in libraries
we thought whispers
handsome.

Just a page, turning slowly,
was enough to unbind
reticence.

A note, folded
close as a boat,
sails the table.

The guardian angel eyes
of comings, and goings,
deep as the marked aisles.

Our love of books
at the ready, in case
romance is only a category.

Sound Reason

The surf trolling,
a foghorn, slight off season
bee.

Children yip across a stone wall
as an engine whipples downhill.

My wife's crisp
pages in the sun. Even a crow.

If that pink cloud,
just before dinner,
is real,
the one next to it, is not.

Stir Sir

In kitchen butterfly,

unusual any season,

but January, the twenty first?

We moved lettuce

and lemon tree inside

to frustrate frost,

the night poet.

I stirred onions from a chair,

book opened to steamed glasses,

yellow tinged wings

opened over the salt bowl.

Happy birthday father,

dead, just short of one hundred years.

Every wish comes true,

when it flits by

unbroken.

Song Bark

Wintered leaves rattle
at apple branch end,
the lone music makers
in the life of the tree.

Delayed rendevous
gives me glimpse
of a natural chorus
ignored.

Jesus said, "The very stones
will cry out..."

Bus stop arbor
doing its best.

Beast of Eden

Quails startle

and fan to the roof,

even without the dog

I'm a terror to the locals.

Defending broccoli

it's me versus the cabbage beetle,

St. George and the dragon.

Any fight I manage is habit 

against prescribed preference,

the stuff of New Year's.

Circumstance and luck,

false Fahrenheits,

the progress of surrender

is light lengthening days.

What God wants,

God gives.

What I take,

is time

to face returning.