Faces all on fire,
eyes catching the dancing flames~
light in their pupils,
dark fireplace gathers each gaze
keeps them when eyes look away.
Wood splits and whip-cracks,
sparks surge up into night's arms
like stars finding night~
the fireplace adores show-time
in its arena of stone.
Ash calms burnt embers,
stones lament the loss of light
warmth without a flame~
the fireplace cradles the shape
of what can no longer burn.
Smoke has lost its verve,
curling up now from the seams.
staining blank-faced stones~
glowing warm in the half-light
clinging to the afterglow.
Dark, damp, and dank now,
night has drunk the final warmth
Cold soot scents the stone~
the shiny green-black hearth waits
keeping winter for the years.
Morning finds no glow,
only the smell of old ash
clinging to the stones~
the fireplace dreams of footsteps
time itself tending the cold.
The last ember died
while darkness quietly drank
its final warm breath~
the hearth retains every face
beneath its moss and silence.
Disneyland dad bailed years ago, not much to lose
before the child wore his first pair of tennis shoes
ten years later he sweeps in for approval
causing nothing but panic and upheaval
although his ex-wife knows better, she can see
his presence is important to their child, Leroy Lee
She worked three or four jobs simultaneously
To pay for them to live in a walk up on twenty-three
Leroy Lee adores his new found dad who is rich
She keeps her mouth shut, not wanting to be a witch
Disneyland dad has money to show off after all these years
While she had to struggle to never be behind or in arrears.
He is the best, Leroy Lee said, he is a wonderful dad.
Mom keeps her mouth shut, does not out the cad.
Because he is Leroy’s father and Leroy seems to need this.
Disneyland dad swoops in and brings money and bliss.
I did not, in any sense, desire a fight with my eye
The eye that keeps greedily taking glances,
Seeking to convince my soul to allow
Beauty,
fleeting pleasure,
and the glory of youth.
For indeed, youth is glory:
A flower that blossoms for a season.
For there lie a myriad forms of fruit,
And every fruit begins at a seed.
A seed suffers shame in many ways;
At times, a bird may take it as a snack.
A choice, in a way, must be made at the level of the seed:
Either be consumed, or be sown.
Both paths satisfy an innate desire.
A youth may take it as a snack;
An elder may sow it and allow it to rot for formation.
One fulfills a fleeting pleasure;
The other postpones urgent gratification.
In every path, some desire is embraced.
Yet at the sunset,
One is further advanced in multiplication,
While another adores only flashbacks.
In all, a need is met
a young Elliott Smith knew he was a musician
raised mostly in Texas, his fingers were itch’n
He learned to play guitar, piano, bass and drums
He moved to Portland and played for the rich and bums
His albums came fast and furiously, he loved to write
Heaven adores you, new moon, figure 8, were all out of sight
His best songs were crazy er, and new monkey
but also great was his song misery
he died at a young age, a mere thirty-four
we will miss his new songs and more
He had a way that made you want to hear
and smile and nod, tap your feet and cheer
autumn spreads color spectrum
gilded leaves fall from tanned trees
dewed crown on grass mind adores
as nature’s charm - senses please
After being cooped inside
Because of cold or snow,
A warmer sunny day demands
You get outside and go!
Depending on your lifestyle,
If you leave to get some air,
You choose a place to perk you up
And mosey over there.
One friend of mine adores the beach,
So she will take a drive
And hit the boardwalk for a stroll
To make her feel alive.
Another lives in warmer climes
But when she needs her space,
She hits a nature sanctuary;
That’s her go-to place.
And as for me, when I am drawn
Outside to take a walk,
I’m happiest just traipsing on
The sidewalks of New Yawk.
I have found a map for you my pal Mary Lee said
I was excited, because she has great ideas for me
but can’t we go together? I asked her.
Not this time, maybe the next one.
Three naysayers said there must be something wrong
Why wouldn’t she want to go? It might be a trap.
I knew my friend would not steer me on a wild calf chase.
I ignored their negativity; as I always do.
Mary Lee stayed home with her livestock
and I set off, with a trusty sidekick, Merriweather.
Merriweather adores everything about me.
She builds me up and chases unkind people away.
Two of the naysayers sent me mean texts.
Warning me that this might be a trap.
I did not find the fountain of youth this time
But Merriweather and I got closer.
And I remembered why I cut naysayers lose.
I blocked both of their names and numbers.
Knowing my life would get easier.
And it did.
Who tried to find a reason—
To intentionally dim your light.
Do not shrink yourself,
Black girl—
Do not shrink yourself.
Do not step aside—
The moonlight will miss your shimmer.
The sunlight adores you,
Black girl—
The sunlight adores you.
Tell whomever that is trying to dim your light,
You will blind them.
Your light is your soul's smile,
Black girl—
Your light is your soul's smile.
Step into your radiance.
Let all who refuse to see it, melt.
Black girl—
Let all who refuse to see it, melt.
The ends Noem says justify
The means and my ICE crew’s bold lie!
Kristi murders dogs
But adores masked hogs—
The Gestapo who had Good die
I found sweet deeps to plunge you in
where oceans cease and vaults begin
the wakes there roil in brumes of mist
and cheeks of sky are blushing, kissed
the face oft’ graced with features, yours
thus featured with what each adores
soft bats each lash o’er polished stars
that melt midst moony eyes … like ours
for beauties borne as thine shine bright
ne’er chanced askance for fancied flight
and should some others draw those gifts
they’re tossed to where the flotsam drifts
lest drowning cold what absence pours
they’d take from light what light abhors
and float there buoyant twixt dark clouds
their vixened visage swirled with shrouds
still -
most looking glasses feign that grace
should god-skilled sculptors give such face
for women’s charms are poised and crowned
to swoon their prince where hopes are bound …
with wonders soft …
and warm …
and round.
At ten til two, some lie awake,
Attending too sighs we ruminate;
Ten and two, love drives to where sunlight hides and waits,
Yet in pursuit, nights erode of what chance may make.
Amending truths our tomorrows wake,
And then the soon borrows the hours late.
Despite red moons raising tides like fate,
Attentive proof reminds of the coming breaks.
We can never know of what tomorrow craves.
Certainty can speak with gentle lips, for words to slate;
What more can 2026 be other than its falling flake?
Rationality adores the harvests they slickly take,
And arrogantly still, I feel tomorrow's grip ought to be sold a bit too late.
’Tis but another tomorrow that hides among many tricks, where ideas apprehend our stakes.
It’s with hope that follows the light that empties their mix, so plans can lessen the opaque.
While tending to sleep to grow the want to wake,
Let this be proof to find of what I may create; I can shape.
The new year is all but a day, and with love I plague every chance I’m given to make new mistakes,
And of the new choices yet to decay.
2026, I have hope for your ache.
I did not hear her bullying voice any more
Her words of meanness I deplore
for she has no power, she does not soar
Mediocre and dull, blah sameness
is what she applauds and adores
I am glad to let you know,
I do not hear mother any more
There's A Firm
Satisfaction
In Completing
Routine Chores
That Adores
All The Time
In The World
You Have Left...
A Feeling...
That I Wasn't
Aware Of,
Quite Like This
Before.
***
I Wonder,
When A.I.
Frees Us All
From, Well:
CAREing...
If It'll Feel
Any Firm
Satisfaction
That Way.
And Then Be
That Much
Better For It,
By A Very
Similar Measure.
-Gray Squirrel
10-18-2025
I glare at the dragon; she is not easy to understand
Her keyboard lays dormant; I despise her in many ways
She’s a machine, you are the boss, someone says
He is on probation now, not understanding our battle
My sword is mighty; but hers is mightier
she has the last word, because she can
I can’t even type without her changing my capitals
sometimes she refuses to acknowledge words I think are words
she has programs that I will never use,
because she intimidates me, and her instruction books are ridiculous
I don’t read anything over six pages
I glare at her, wanting my old life back
She is here to stay, resolute and determined
I have to make room for her; everyone else in the house adores her
my children click clack click her keys, and are delighted
my husband throws around terms like “database and delete”.
Words I never used before this dragon arrived.
Please walk me into your City
Rain down on me with your love
As I walk down in your city with your liquid flesh touching my feet
Light up my heart like fire flies with yellow flowers above my feet
My hat is tilled, acknowledge me
As my white dress adores you to speak
The sky is lit by the moon while the lamps smiles brightly when you walk past, walk me to my destiny. Welcome me to
your city
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