Friday, November 30, 2012

November 28, Emily Dickinson on Snow

To fight aloud, is very brave-
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The cavalry of woe-
who win, and nations do not see-
who fall-and none observe-
whose dying eyes, no country
regards with patriot love-
We trust, in plumed procession
for such, the Angels go-
Rank after Rank, with even feet-
And Uniforms of Snow.

Sunday, November 25, 2012


The peach and orange
could be considered
to tarnish after ripen,
rotten spots give
some dust on
touching area...
That does not mean
their quality is
questionable as fruit,
It is this that
still offers catching eyes
pluck them while
fresh and young,
pick those in season
and forgive the bruise
on their surface.
you choose
your fate,
avoid any
obvious defeat

Friday, November 16, 2012

In the Flight of the Blue Heron By Anita Endrezze Probst

we held the moon between us,
we carried the sun on our backs,
and tied the reeds into boats.
We burned the cities and left them behind,
In the plight of the blue heron,
we moved forward without you
and Tamoanchan starved
like a baby.


Saturday, November 10, 2012


I do all types of poetic dances
in my living room,
Pedaling rhythmic steps to the music,
Peeking at the attentive stars,
I assume: you shall be aware of my moondrift.
The heartbeats of my wishes
drums a song upon the eye balls
of your creative mind,
A butterfly rises from your hand
with wings that fancy the room.