The wind blew the babe's
hair around and the sun lit
it with yellow light.

There was a crescent

moon, crickets singing and the 

baby was sleeping.

The mysterious
sailboat moon drifting over 
the greying ocean.

With Marguerite we 
walked on Marguerite Street to 
the Marguerite Sea.

The ghosts don't usually 
stay here, at least not long, 
they're just passing through.

I moved the furniture
around. Now the ghosts have
a place to sit, too.

Suddenly I realized
there were no more flies and 
all the spiders had come.

The neighbor listens
to John Denver when the morn
light meets the grape leaves.

Chilly mornings, warm 
noons, quiet evenings, darker 
nights welcome Autumn.

I wish you the 
best in this life, your travels
and a heart that's light.

With the dark days and 

dark nights there's always a break 

in the clouds, always.

It was a quiet
night. Not even the flies were
stirring in their beds.

He walked through the door
as the music climaxed and 
it was just too much.

The crow looks weathered
like he's probably lived in 
that tree forever.

I took the wedding 
clothes from the box, all the smiles
came back to my heart.

The weather's changing. 
The animals are getting  
restless and moody.

I look at your baby
body thinking how sweet and 
elegant you are.

You say the tree
belongs to you, but it stays while
you're the one to leave.

Mom, what does the crow

mean when he caws? Not sure, Dear,

you'd have to ask him.

You, my heart, don't tease
me any longer. Tell me 
what I want to hear.

The winds are weird and 
whispering in my ear.
I feel like goodbyes.

I thought it was a 
ghost I didn't know, but it 
was the ghost from home.

I was outside in 
the dark with him and then the 
ghost followed me home.

I'm so excited,
my sweet, to spend the rest of 
my life loving you.

I 
got 
the 
blues 
daddio 
but 
the 
pink 
yellow 
and 
green 
sparkly 
kind 

I miss that little
library in the desert 
with the arch doorway.

Let the mood take you,
let the music move you and let 
the love change you.

I saw you in that
car, looking like you do, and 
my heart skipped a beat.

Don't forget it takes
two to Tango, 'cause she ain't 
dancin' by herself.

When my cubs are low

I cuddle them to my breast.

Pet their precious heads.

The blood is boiling, 
the muscles tightening, the 
skies are turning red.

Today my heart aches
and not much can soothe it, but
the passing of time.

Autumn reminds me
it's coming and I am sad
for summer's passing.

I'm going to fly.

It'll look like singing and dancing. 
Then I'll be gone.

There's infinite

amounts of love in you. Let it be art 

and reach the world.

I've been searching for 
the words for days, but they're wrapped 
up in my hot skin. 

The sun soaked leaves in

water that later fills me 

with love of the earth.

I waited all night to 

see the moon from my window 

like I did last night.

There were toys in the 
yard and the wind blew the long
grass all around them.

The day is settling
into bed and the night 
is ready to rise.

You think you could 
never be that person then you 
wake up and you are.

It's chilly. The moon is 
full. I hear there are crows that
live in those tall trees.

Mama and Papa
sitting in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

She looked up. Through the
dust her disgust was thick. She had 
had dreams now just squash.

The moon was aloof 
that night. It reminded me of 
the night it wasn't.

"Borderline" blared and 

they turned south on 33rd 

then east on Prescott.

The tips of the trees,
the tops of the clouds, the ends
of the earth meeting.

The ocean, she is
beautiful, but it's the river 
that has my heart.

It was the kind of 
cloud I thought would make the
perfect kingdom someday.

I realized then I 
was in love all over again
for the first time.

I felt the moon and 
I were thinking the same thing.
'Yep, we're trapped, dude.'

Starving for you. Starved
for you. So hungry. Ravenous
wolf at full moon.

PODS brings all the 
pickers to the yard and they're, 
like, it's freer than yours.

Some days are for
writing and some days are for
thinking about writing.

I woke, looked out a
window, and wondered what 
sea was it that I saw.

Standing by the 
sticker bushes and looking
down the empty alley.

I had to get used 
to new sounds, new sights and 
meet a few new spirits.

"Oh yeah, I say, life
goes on. Long after the thrill
of livin' is gone."
-John Cougar

The sticks and bark chips
reminded me of a child 
I knew long ago.

I saw the cat through
the fence and I could've touched
him, but for that fence.

I feel them howling.
too. We're far from home and need 
the moon to lead us.

I left a hard boiled 
egg out for the flies, because
they were hungry, too.

I feel like quoting 
Destiny's Child, 'cause yo, I 
am a SURVIVOR!!

Finger crossing and
clover leaves. Stars for wishing 
and Buddha rubbed.

Dreams do shatter, but
into a bunch of pieces that
become other dreams.

The highway lights, all 
fake yellowish-orange, are the 
smells of my childhood.

I've felt particularly
quiet for all the talking 
I need to hear.

I parked in the
shade of the sign, because it
was a hot, hot day.

The sound of the freight
train reminded me I'd been
riding the subway.

I think that I love
it. Especially when I
say that I hate it.

It's the sun. It's 
always that rad, awesome,
crazy lady the sunshine.

I came back and it
was all exactly the same
and a bit different

Tonight I'll be restless.
I'll dream, but wake from the 
dream and hope to sleep.

Reality is 
the old men don't play the chess.
They just talk some shit.

Tonight I heard the
cicada singing with her 
electricity voice.

What if somewhere else

to someone else YOU are the 

ghost haunting their room?

I'm not going to 
Hell. I could live there now. And 
Heaven's all around me.

Howl at the sky. Howl 
at the moon. Let your heart howl
at the everything.

I avoid a lot 
of eyes, but when I see them
I'm hooked like a fish. 

The touch of your skin.
The feel of your hair. The sense
of your hand near mine.

The clouds looked perfect.
Like they hadn't moved for
years or centuries.

Where the old wave meets
the new wave and the sand slips 
out from under me.

There was a building
and another building and 
somewhere there was sky.

The dragonfly buzzed
by her head. Lingered. Two 
creatures living new lives.

Tears fall at the drop 
of a hat, the turning of 
a new leaf, your eyes.

It's all or nothing.
Crazy, sane. I wouldn't want it 
any other way.

Excited/Morose.
Scared/Sure. Nostalgic/Hopeful.
Laughing/Crying. Sighs.

Against the backdrop 
of the city she was like a 
breath of fresh air.

I held the feather
and watched the breeze touch it, 
thinking, "Where's this bird now?"

"Gotta make a move 
to a town that's right for me.
Town to keep me movin'."
                                 -Lipps, Inc.

We're born in the wild,
wild at heart, we are the wild 
child sowing wild oats. 

The pigeon's fine, 
but I miss the crow. I just
can't relate to pigeons.

The air outside is 

thin and still. It looks just as 

lonely as I feel.

I wrote a poem 
with the only time I have
while the children sleep.

The tops of the trees.
The roofs of the homes. The window
I look out of.

Today's haiku's brought 
to you by the letter R 
and the number 4.

The night is long, but 
not long enough for I hate 
to wake from my dreams.

Their light is soft and
floats up as if they were sparks 
escaping the fire.

This haiku's about
the sky, because the sky's so
mysterious to me.

Each place you've been
you've left a little of you,
taken a bit of them.