July Stones 24

last of the poets
around the table;
they clutch their coffee cups,
holding onto
those last moments
before going back
to their regular lives

For all the poets this weekend up in Mineral Point, and especially those of us at lunch this afternoon. Was just the revitalizing weekend I needed!

July Stones 23

morning rain
a bucket of daisies
in the rusty Radio Flyer

night crawlers…
the neon light
of another pub

creaky screen door—
potbelly cat
sprawled on the porch

shedding light
on childhood mysteries
I bicycle down
the shadiest streets