Moving side to side Evading the frame of 

     proud 

            portraits
I duck away from

Daughters, sons, and

Mostly daughters.
Quiet

Sideways

Introvert

Thinking about work

Dreaming of stanzas
Feeding my solaced brain

In lines imagined
Poet

Not quite clever

Reading artless spelltight monograms
Full of love

Big heart wanders

Writer

In a theater Screaming with performers

Silent laugh

Another ego
Ever eager

I am human

Never hear me
I am human

Never shouting

I am human

Always new

Forever human

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clay

I bite my own face

swell my lips

My cheek

A chunk
And on to fill a day
With letters of my

Countenance 

Read aloud

In my big voice

Edited 

To tiny sound
I balance on my cloud
What is my cloud
My audience

A bug or cat
My cloud

The ground
And I Compost

In

Uncrisp squishings
No enduring eye

To calculate assess reduction 

Annuals bloom 

Entropic whispers
And

Silent,

Without features, I

walk into the clay.

Single Glimmer

Switch hip and Untuck

Her eyes look into you and wonder what is there.
She sees something in fleeting so-oftens

But what

Is hard to say.
Eyes hold moments fingers can’t grasp,

Smells kiss through eternity,

Reminding you to be familiar.

You have been here. 

You have seen her.
She knows your

Inability to place yourself in this moment
and waits, enjoying the show as you try.

(The window was the only light at night)

And that morning she cried into her cerealUntil there wasn’t milk

But dripping tendrils of cloudy water

Drop by dropping over the edges of the bowl

And pooling at her feet
Leaving the kitchen flooded,

raising a tiny arc of 

Barely used utensils

To row through the crack

In the window above the sink.
Late at night the pots and pans were lit enough to know eachother by the moon

And from the Outside,

neighbors saw a 

Woman 

Lit by lonely light bulbs 

Scrubbing dishes,
Lighting up a frenzy,

Sending shots of fire to the sky,
Setting the tone

For daybreak

So her daughter 

Could cry.

Wasting water

My happiness

In clutches,
fists of pure-intented new beginnings
Never unclenched,
drained through handcracks
left in puddles
city sidewalks
Reflects neon
Gone by morning
shoe soles
No such mirror
And somewhere honest
There is bone dry, sun-dried 
Soil.

What strange part of me

Really missed the pavement?
Smell of traveled asphalt  
Matte black sun reflection
Dry bouncing heat
Screeching swingsets 
Sidewalk dandies
Yellowtouch and spin
Your ears
Your eyes
To what remind
A poached egg
Without holiday
A kid
My mothers kid
Me

treasure

It is so wildly Treasure,

forcing slivers of its glowing light
Through the cracks.
How much is it worth?
and who is worthy of it?
Beggars never ask
And thinkers ponder,
The lonely grieve.
Greedy coveters will spend it
For no man
Can he hoard
What glows deeply 
Through the cracks in our faces, 
Wrinkles,
Riches often squandered,
Treasure,
Time.