By |

in explorer-mode, I stroll along

a newly discovered trail.

its path, dotted with hedge apples,

weaves and winds

through grassy woods, gentle hills

where cattle grazed, not so long ago.

I’m as thrilled as a child, the child I still remain,

transported beneath an autumn-blue sky

to a magic surround, one I don’t ever want to leave —

you can’t make me!

By |

we discuss AI, the Battle of Thermopylae

one’s personal canon, pop quizzes on Halloween

self-checkout, self-nurturing bedtime podcasts —

I feel closer to you now than I’ve ever felt,

our long-distance mother-child symbiosis

By |

autumn leaf portraits

matted on grass & concrete walkways

wooden decks and neglected patios

entire galleries of art

beneath our feet

By |

My prose poem, what I really meant, was published today in the 3rd issue of The Creekside Magazine which is self-described as, “reminiscent of camping as a child, of the wafting scent of baking cookies, the taste of cigarettes in the air at Grandma’s house. We want works suggest of or about home and belonging (whatever that means to you).”

Thanks for looking. I hope you enjoy it!