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Author Archives: puffofsmokepoems

Recipe Notes

the way you jot down additions
or cross out ingredients
on the page? Add more cinnamon.
Leave out the cilantro. Another note:
Don’t sit too many hours
with today’s stewed basket of words
or the taste grows bitter
like tea steeped too long in the cup

To Those Of My Neighbors Not On Vacation

I see you, intent on getting somewhere—
birds, cars, occasional cats, hurrying by
this wide lawn striped sun and shadow
green on green. Me, I am all attention.
July schedules us—
grateful for this quiet assignment,
I watch on behalf of the whole street—
certain you’ll do the same
when your turn comes around

Singing In The Shower

early rain
thunder in the distance
robins sing in the shower

What Should I Call You?

next to the potted lavender
One dandelion blooms
(because) no one ever told her
she wasn’t a flower

dandelion

 

Crow Experiment

 

this morning’s experiment:
wish Good Day to every crow you see
especially the one perched on that roof line
Mark the missed things tumbled into your path

Here: a wooden Popsicle stick
covered in ecstatic ants
reminder that we are all filled with
Invisible Sweetness even when
we think we are empty

Here: a fallen branch in the road
imitating a monkey
because even the withered
are capable of whimsy
and wild jungled dreams

Here: a Luna moth
elegant and feathered
in her everyday leaf disguise
not a reminder of anything else.
Pure marker of amazement.

One of the many scattered.
Who knows if you open
your own eyes or if
(as I prefer)
this is all a gift from the crows
A nod to your greeting, Part Two
of every day’s courteous exchange

Particular Robin

Banish the word enough
Banish its dark implications,
the you standing in shadow
clutching a measuring spoon
(not even a measuring cup!
a measly spoon! Oh, that one,
she is not your friend)
Too little or too much is hidden
in everything she notices.

 

Banish the word enough
Love this:
this moment,
these words,
that particular robin
gliding, landing soft,
grazing the grass nearby

Note to A Morning Walker

You might think the quiet is
the first thing you’ll notice.
Wrong.
Colors jump out and grab at
your ankles, your rumpled sweatshirt,
your yet to be combed hair.
Damp and freshly rinsed, the pink peony
green maple tree deeper than
the fresh green of your untrimmed grass
and look there, the red enamel spout
on the watering can in the hands of
your neighbor in her lavender silk pajamas.
And last of all, the surprise of the dark purple
blueberry, the one you dropped in your coffee
long ago, before your morning walk, and forgot
busy with colors.
Go ahead, drink it in.

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Shades of Gray - Denison TX

Photographer of Life in North TX & points beyond

Red Wolf Poems

Prompting new poems for Red Wolf Journal

Writing the Day

A Poetry Practice

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

Rainbow Bakery

Photographing the rainbow of life