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Ron
Steam from a bowl of oatmeal rises, Dimming the party hat mountain. The plunger falls in the dark waters, Settling on the murky grounds. Something orange, something wrinkled, Something sprinkled, something soft. I want to... More »
Ron
Arc: South to North with a little french curve at the end. So high, so white. never seeming to turn In my presence, trailing a ruled soft line Spreading, erasing itself, slowly. I know it... More »
Ron
I am holding the buttonhole open, with my left thumb Pressing against the top side causing it to spread, to arch. I can see the reddish flesh of my thumb through the back side. In... More »
Ron
She played left field for me. She liked to play shallow. So I was constantly waving her back Man, she could track that ball down On the run. I would try to shade her around... More »
Ron
It's a young pine, maybe 15 foot, Rough reliefed hide A bit of red flesh showing Right there, in the clean velocity. There they are, just under it, A flat marker. There's mud on my... More »
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