2017, POETRY

The hammock

We sat on her hammock.
swinging slightly back and forth,
by the motion of our legs.
It breaks.
and we land on our butts,

She gets up,
wipes nthe dirt off her ass,
and runs into the house
to bring back a roll of nylon thread.

She takes some twine off the spool
To repair it.
her fingers tie a series of sailor’s knots.

I could see where’s
She’s repaired it the same way
over and over again.
She tells me
It was her Father’s.
It was the only thing she had of his.

I replied ‘i guess years from now.
This gonna all be rebuilt’

She laughs,
‘yeah like my heart,
by sailor’s knots.’

2017, POETRY


An elegant slender umber lady,
docks along the banks;
as we talk,
I gaze into those alluring cocoa eyes.

I, a white wolf, belong to the earth,
and she, a lotus,              the river,
floating down with the current.
I stand along the red banks,
mourning my youth,
and watch her navigate the rushing waters of life,
wrapped in cold rain and an imperceptible want.