short poems about life and love

i feel myself (there between each heartbeat and deep intake of breath) just before it’s time for bed when you draw the...

i have no idea what you see from your shuttered balcony and truth be told i’m afraid to ask about those crowded...

i wonder what kind of mind would conceive an idea for robo-bees (or pollination drones) flying ceaselessly through the air competing with...

if i were to throw some stone into a little known pond would those ripples propagate outward anyway even if no one...

if we cut all flowers would others one day bloom, or would future springs remain desolate? it’s easy to reason that scissors...

it’s okay to spend your days watching clouds pass by imagining objects or faces concatenate from their shapes or sit like otis...

when she reads (which she does well and often) it’s like a dream or vision reaching through from some other plane of...

your voice heavy with the fog of waking whispered the sweetest nothings. cool crisp mornings beneath an antique quilt waiting for coffee...