
local folk once feared
that open-pit mining would
scar their pristine land
but the wounds healed nicely
with the help of nature’s hand
–photo by me

local folk once feared
that open-pit mining would
scar their pristine land
but the wounds healed nicely
with the help of nature’s hand
–photo by me

Well, the weekends came every other day, and now summer is about to stub her bare toes on September, so on this last day of August, I leave you with these wildflowers and fruit I picked on my walk in the woods yesterday. Have a great autumn!
–photo by me

I am not the
ink
on this page
I am not the
pen
nor the hand
I’m not even
the
man printing
I am the one
who
created life
I am all the
men
in the world
I am the one
god
in everybody

my path up ahead
looks like it comes to an end
I don’t think it does
–photo by me

inspiration
like a view
imagination
comes from you
exasperation
what to do
determination
see it through
publication
start anew

Grandpa punishes with ice cream headaches.

I lift my eyes
to the night sky
and an affinity
with the stars
overwhelms me
we are old kin
the stars and I
I am stardust
forged out there
among my own kind
but lost for eons
in the icy void–
see me now
o ancient ones!
I am found!

–photo by me

wildfire smoke races
across the face of the sun
ancient alarms sound
high, fast-moving fumes summon
our deepest of primal fears
–photo by me

I came upon a serpent
And he said, “How do you do?”
I answered, “I’m a bit surprised
To be engaged with you.”
And then, without a warning,
I dipped and spun around,
And with my forked walking stick,
I pinned him to the ground.
He gasped and coiled wildly,
Struggling to break free,
And hissed, “What is this scandal, sir?
What is your beef with me?”
“You’re the Father of all Lies!
You beguiled Adam’s wife!
So now I have to till the land
and toil all my life!”
“Regrettably, mistakes were made
By all in Paradise;
Mine was that I told the truth
And now I’m paying the price.
I crawl upon my belly
Eating dust for what I’ve done,
And I’m accursed above the rest
Reviled by everyone.”
Though skeptical, I let him go,
So when I got back home,
I had to look the story up
Before I wrote this poem.