Tag 365 Collection

when I was a boy          the side of a cardboard box
said my future daughter’s heart would be
the same             shape as the little bouquet of her fist

“pay attention! look about!
all this precious plenitude
is headed for the drain.”

All we seem to grow are twigs!
They need sun.
Of course, they need sun.

can I too,
reach out,
and accept
all I need to live?

we will not
see when morning
sun melts it.

I had an imaginary friend: a giraffe named Lulu.

His history is whispered, and all identify him for his complexion.

The oranges have gone a bit soft, the apples are delicately

low hum
door slam
clickclack
nothing.

standing
there - patiently -
as if amused
that the fire
could spread
this way
or that