with one vacant lot
the clear divide of wealth
(urban devilry)
But the Shade Tree
humanity
Versions of Home
summer camp is done.
art, yoga, cycling, love.
and home stretch? cooking.
these so-rare smiles
pouring milk for tortillas
like happy siblings
did you say siblings?
how about our matching twins
with perfect spring rolls?
don’t forget sushi
made with Chinese expertise
to brighten their eyes
and fufu for all
stirred by girls from two cultures
finding friends at home
these mandazi men
so proud of their puffed product
all the way from home
taco influence
on the next generation
sharing her home’s heart
this sweet quesillo
comes from home with a sweet tale
(we’ve hit a home run)
CycleLife
"bikes for everyone"
is our summer camp motto
(if not, it should be)
what did we just learn?
first, bike vocabulary:
then, real practice
the best from today?
my daughter's helpful patience
(a prospective teacher)
at sixteen years old
learning to ride can be hard
(a kind heart can help)
childhood bullies
prevented her from riding
till my girl taught her
no award for this
no graduation medal
yet, better than gold
Circle Up
'welcome to our house'
they even opened their car
to the teens’ delight
if they could see them
maybe they could listen; help them
maybe they’d be safe
this is how it starts:
with a circle and some words
and a little hope
Petal by Petal
surrounded by blooms
(yet the reality kills)
as they slowly die
Dawn’s Climate Crisis
you can feel the heat
creeping into the photo
burning from within
Long Months, Short Years
eighteen long months late,
we celebrate our friendship
of thirty short years
she survived COVID
now, we're both vaccinated
to celebrate love
what a perfect place
green grounds, infinity pool
for endless friendship
Fuzzy Blooms
thank you for the “no.”
as phallic as this lupine
(allium ignored)
i will learn from this
(things i tell myself at night)
and grow a sagebrush
it will bloom purple
(you can’t see my true color)
and you can’t taste it
yet, here it blossoms
as beautiful as the home
you constantly loathe
i know. i know. i…
you don’t see what i see. stop.
but god. how it hurts.
Pan-Aca-demic
eighteen years finished
with this mask that hides us all
from society
Halfway There
my perfect symbol:
trying so hard for peaches
even while dying
