dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: hope

an old wish

the fur, pieces of bone

that see-saw

in what the raccoon left

when the trees get the wind up

an old wish

the deserted dirt-daubers’

crusty pipe-organ home,

hushed and hard

and threatening

an old wish

the abandoned fort

that grew mossy

and wilder than we were

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Like warm weather
In winter,
You stole. 
One blossom
Burst
And strangled-
 

You tangled seasons,
Circling 
A single brown hope

That stretched 
To grasp this
Pink
Soft
S
tar.

Hope forgot its own
Smooth skin
To brush
The jar of promise
Sweating dew,

Hope danced
With the wind,
Twirling its treasure
Too soon,

But its thin arm
Never let go-
This flower
Fell for you.


Braid the sunset
And weave the river slow-
Let it sparkle between burnt evening strands,
Hold my hands.
Take my soul
And look through it into the light
That flows between water and sky,
Soothe from it the night
That scratches deep
With clock-face fingers.
Keep the morning shadows too-
Let smooth sun slants
Warm my face,
Illuminate you
In the daybreak.


I’ve made a wish in Spanish,
On a star,
With birthday candle breath.
I thought a lot in yoga,
in the shower,
climbing steps.
Now I’m sending my sandcastles
out to sea in purple pails.
I hope
the fishermen
will add
my daydreams
to their tales.


Our future is colored
Wildflower acoustic,
Fragrantly free.

Drifting seeds and sounds
Blend blue with the sky
Until clouds ripple
Like ocean waves
And the surf sparkles
Between constellations.


Trees and tries

Leave a pile of the leafy dead

When the season comes around.

Brown sounds reach,

Crinkling with each slinky stretch,

Then settle like dust

Beneath so many shoes.


There’s a bridge between us

But it’s stone and cold

And too close to rushing water.

You just got off work and

My rain boots have holes

And we’re forever sons and daughters

Of tomorrow and yesterday.

So simply send me paper airplanes

Or throw boomerangs

As far as you can.