It’s not a hickey.
It’s a tick. He stuck himself
deep in my neck. Heck.
It’s not a hickey.
It’s a tick. He stuck himself
deep in my neck. Heck.
Writing a haiku/
on Kobayashi Maru/
is hard. Done. I won.
The empty, aching
yearns have returned. I’ve learned. I’m
past treading old paths.
No mistake: Sounds you
make clarify or destroy
what I contemplate.
My curfew used to be
at 10.
Now I can’t even
make it ’til then.
Oh, for some mean tweets/
that insulted all the weak;/
cheap gas! Food to eat!
I have a love who
snores, but she adores me. How’d
I get so lucky?
She begs: “Take me to
It’ly!” I do. She then sits,
alone, with her phone.
What benefits will you find
when you take the time
to feel Nature?
This iambic piece is part of a larger prose writing on getting outside and feeling Nature.
I’ve understood
that it can good
when folks doubt
what you’re about.
It forces you
to
feel the thrill
as you
affirm God’s will.