bravery who am I to saying that I know what bravery is
Even though I'm stronger than more people then I know
bravery to me it's a stand up and accept what it is to be free
even though I tend to find myself looking below
mainly because I'm still learning how to grow
no more of a s*** show but look out cuz I'm ready to blow
I never really understood what it meant to have full bravery until I learned about the famous James Avery

I found a loose shoestring
in the bottom of the sewing basket -
white, a bit frayed, but useful for
another job of some sort.
The other string is gone,
as are the shoes, but so...
there it is.

***

There are three apple trees
living together behind her barn.
They produce enough fruit for
endless pies, sauces, and jellies
to dress Christmas baskets and pantries.
Many are committed to the ground, ripened
and fermented for the bees and
creatures passing by, but so...
there they are.

***

"Sic semper evello mortem tyrannis"
translation = thus always I
bring death to tyrants.”

Brussel sprouts, spinach
Promise of their vile flavor
My childhood poison

On the phone she tells me
she looks forward to the rain.
She mentions that she forgot her umbrella
again, but she’ll be okay without it.

And would I be kind enough to bring in her book
left outside on the table. Fretting in jest
that the author may not forgive if I don’t hurry,
and refuse her the denouement she hopes for.

I wonder, once more, if it’s forgetfulness.
Does she worry I’ll think she’s foolish or laughable
because she’s neglected to bring an umbrella again?

there is a full moon out tonight,
it is a dreamer's moon pale and white.
still early nightfall, bags are packed
awaiting planned passage on a train.

Got my train ticket in my hand
Anticipation at the station
Conductor smiles and punches it
She points me to my seat, off I go.

A window seat is mine, what rapture
Turning off "my" light, I can see out
Harp to mouth, blowing sweetest notes
a call for "Me And Bobby McGee"

Destination anywhere,
frozen tears pierce my skin,
as a bitter wind slaps my face.
Much like the memories of you and this place.

Passersby, in ghostly form,
not really here but not really gone.
The train rolls in, like storm clouds in the sky.
I've never been so glad to say goodbye.

The conductor, in his broken down attire,
bids me good day as I board his vessel.
One way ticket to parts unknown,
no turning back once the whistle has blown.

The glow of an luminescence shaped
eyeglass
observing rotating above submerged
but not
out shined by the unlighted cloak of
darkness

and ink canvas.Cotton coal clouds
passing
submerging, evolving, manifesting
into silhouette
shapes that seemed out lined traced

the following written
for no particular rhyme nor reason
quite aware the exit (stage door left)
allows, enables, to provide every season
with a bumper crop of dead souls.

Sympathy for strangers
Is very curious.
Some have travelled 50 miles
To take a selfie next to a river
Where a woman vanished
One January morning
A mother with a dog

From speculation to rumour
From Innuendo to abuse
Idiots and trolls feeding
A social media frenzy
Rubbernecks tick toking
Ghoulish passers-by with cameras
How appalling we say
No more decency
Meanwhile still posting theories
Conspiracies and selfies