Potatoes

I'd like to share a villanelle-

What's the occasion? 

Potatoes sprouting sentinels.

Some shaped starfish, some seashell

All forming tubes in great diffusion.

I'd like to share a villanelle.

There seemed no pattern where expelled

as sprouts varied at each compaction-  

Where potatoes sprouted sentinels.

Their sack's brand was Russets Royalle

As from a medieval monk's dispersion;

I'd like to spin a villanelle.

The potatoes aged having dwelled

Months, a kitchen shelf diversion  

When potatoes sprouted sentinels.

So I planted sprouting life with smell

Of earth for a phoenix conversion;

I'd like to spin a villanelle

When potatoes sprouted sentinels.

Bliss, MUSE Press Anthology 2013

The Universe

It must be true: the Universe has no edge or center as I've read

so it brings me security to make patchwork quilts at night;

it makes sense to cut up pieces to sew with needle and thread.

“You are not lonely when you sew,”  Grandmother often said

as she sewed apron after apron with evident delight;

It must be true: the Universe has no edge or center as I've read.

Other activities most likely should have been my stead:

quilt after quilt I've made at night sitting straight, upright:

it makes sense to cut up pieces to sew with needle and thread.

Mixing pattern with plain, varying width until ready for bed,

securing the needle easy to spot on a piece extra bright--

it must be true: the Universe has no edge or center as I've read.

Fleece, flannel, denim, have made many a patchwork spread

and those who receive them do express thanks forthright:

it makes sense to cut up squares to sew with needle and thread.

I've concluded I'll have no edge or center when I'm dead

and finding security sewing squares is better than fright.

It must be true: the Universe has no edge or center as I've read

it makes sense to cut up pieces to sew with needle and thread.

Lady Ink Magazine December 2011
Sheepshead Review Fall 2011: Vol. 33 No. 1

Each Spring

Each spring I say I'll taste it day by day

and not be surprised by summer's end

when  sand castles are no longer play.

Each spring I say I'll taste it day by day--

it's not like I want it served up on a tray,

or say it never happened-or pretend.

Each spring I say I'll taste it day by day

and not be surprised by summer's end.

Third Wednesday Spring 2011
Curio Poetry  March 2013

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