Foresight from 460

Helpful, sensible
Mask softly repeats over
Research, but hang loose


The Pattern Repeats

A pair of eyes that blush the robin red
And charm sweet smiles from all the nearby kids,
Your brows like sparrows with their wings outspread,
A flight of fancy perched above your lids.
Your nose is not a button but a knife,
A preview marking sharpness of your wit
That cuts, divides, and conquers without strife,
Still leaving all in stitches for a bit.
Your laugh is trembling, caught between your lips:
Soft portals op’ning to release your voice;
You speak in cursive curvy like your hips
And all around the daffodils rejoice.
Fair ribbons weave their way through curly locks—
I’m shy so all I see are argyle socks.

Photo by Christina

Love’s Letter’s Lost

If I
were to try
and write to my
love, would she give reply
or would blank page stay dry
without any ink words, not even goodbye:
a bittersweet word that would guarantee a sigh,
but silence is worse and would make me cry—



Quick–it’s just a moment, catch it
Ready–pounce, contain and snatch it
Quick–catch it
Ready–snatch it
It’s just a moment,
Catch it, snatch it

Empty Bed

The scattered bones bounce off unoccupied graves,
Double-dutch, double-dutch, triple dog dare,
Fibula, tibia fly through the air,
Hula hoop hopscotch hops to the beer:
People are skeletal knaves.

Fast grows the crop, it looms late

O gently the waves reverse rewind the time,
For him, for him.

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Because Russ L asked

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