The physical manifestations

of your abhorrent manipulations

are rippling excitations

down my lizard spine


Such unexpected permutations

include exquisite evocations

and post coital proclamations

from a forked tongue


But after countless titillations

i’m left to ponder ruminations

during lengthy hibernations

so cools my reptilian blood

Will You?

Have you lost me to the evening air?

a balloon floating free at the country fair

a child dismayed

eyes flooded by glare

from the sun so bright
Did you lose me to the forest green?

a barefoot nymph, dancing unseen

dashing through thicket



dried moss to misted dust
Will you find me now the song has played?

the concert over

a sparse crowd dismayed

violin bow lowered

had but we stayed…

haunted yet by the music

The Oyster’s Lament

What shall I do with you sweet pearl?

you were the sand grit that slipped unsuspected

between my brittle, rippled


as I brine bathed baring

my virgin mantle


I promptly coated you with layers of nacre

to match my own luminescence

and we moved together

with midnight tides

our affair of nautical jostling

exposed under neon glow

waking starfish

One NIGHT only, Bivalve Show

The Breath

as I sit in yonder peaceful place

i struggle well to recall your face

for it was your soul that invited me to play

then body cloaked

swiftly turned away

a dance for one…


i stand along a foreign shore

as winter approaches I reflect ever more

of hope laced dreams

as numbered as the sands

now only fine grit grains

sift inert through my hands

as you swim for mermaids…


i lay beneath a tumbled cloud

my body constricted in lavender shroud

with fate’s call yet taunting my mind

her spoken whispers are to be left behind

with a final breath…

Hollow Tree

with creaking branch

against gentle breeze

I stifle wayward memory

with sullen, wooden ease


for I am but a hollowed trunk

core charred from flame on high

I sought the thrill of lightning strike

stiff branched, I’d taunt the sky


my splintered bark now falls to ground

though painful peel, I’ll make no sound

and gnarled roots under ashen soil

tremble deep from termite toil


my candle heart placed by window ajar

waiting for your breeze bestowed

shall I flicker and fail

at the impending gale

or leap with urgent flame

excited by air

gasping here,  gasping there


a pool of molten collects

and waxen tears spill

in time I will diminish


twisted by warm

where once I stood tall

wick burns low