Just one thread loosens its hold~
one worry tugging the next,
the weave thinning quietly,
slowly fraying.
I try mending it,
but my fingers tremble,
and the tear only deepens.
More than the cloth unravels~
the fabric of my being unspools.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Boots scrape cold stone~
the road unspools like old film,
each frame a town
where no one knows their names.
Twilight licks their shadows long.
A train expels
steel and distant oranges.
They swap coins
for warmth in paper cups~
the dark drinks their voices whole.
They trade silence
for the weight of the question:
Where next? The wind
carries no answer, only
the scent of distant rain.
The last train gasps,
a ghost leaving the platform.
They step aboard—
not toward home, but toward
the dark’s wide, waiting arms…
….and moonlight fills the creases
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the year slips loose~
a cassette tape unraveling
in the teeth of an old machine.
we try to press rewind,
but the film keeps curling
into shadows:
laughter caught in a stranger’s doorway,
a missed train dissolving into steam,
the way your hands held silence
like a fallen leaf.
now, the calendar thins~
we fold the days smaller,
smaller,
until they fit inside a pocket~
a quiet weight
to carry into the dark.
Midlife storm unspools
urgency tears at the seams
burnout looms heavy—
the answer is not to stop
but to pause, to wait a while
At red lights I breathe
blue sky outshines the phone's glow
decisions can wait
till I drink my tea in peace
calling quietude a win
Time widens within
less pressure, less urgency
a softer wisdom
the truest grace is to say—
Yes, and not No, but not Now
In countries where a despot rules
And history’s revised in schools,
The freedom to speak out unspools
Since nobody will dare.
The USA is getting close;
It isn’t hard to diagnose.
First Colbert, now a second dose
With Kimmel off the air.
They put him back, but ABC
Is not the hero, not to me,
But maybe now the world will see,
For any unaware,
That what we’re facing’s really sick
And if we don’t do something quick,
This blatant bully might just kick
Our laws beyond repair.
Mist feathery drifts
last night’s breath loosening
above basalt slopes of Huatung
Pacific swallows trace morning brushwork
over Fuli’s rice paddies
new green scented with rain.
Xiuguluan River flows jade mountain-born
among ancestral stones
white willows in Ruisui weep
dew-kissed
cycad fronds catching first sunlight
Leaf pearls gather on my thatched sandals
Walami earth holds stories in its coolness.
Bihe Pond rests hidden in Wanrong’s stillness
waters reflecting the tribe’s quiet prayers
Bamboo leaves in green and gold
crested mynas gather in quiet repose
wind moves with the chime of a temple bell.
Ancestral path wanders into the Central Range
oolong tea clouds drift
above Qilai’s blue ridges
A white egret lifts over Guangfu’s terraces
air clear as poured Longjing.
A bulbul calls
blue magpie glides
the slow unlayering of day
Huatung Calligrapher’s span warm to newborn light
time unspools—
bright
unmeasured.
Light widens
dawn follows Yu Shan’s shadowed valleys
the world in quiet promise
soft light
drifting into morning.
She inhales the aurora,
breath laced with frozen with light speed
Pulsar fingers stretch through cirrus gauze,
her bodice bending like solar flares.
Astronaut
A quasar shudders behind her lips,
erupting across the event horizon.
Space folds—
she unspools like a nebula unraveling,
luminous in the underworld
aphrodisiac of your vanilla fragrance
You taste as if twilight were—
lavender swirling like smoke from the earth
licorice lingering with the full moon’s soft pull
a sweetness both dark and divine.
Your skin sparkles with starlight
electric and soft as moth wings.
We sip the pink sky
lemonade lakes cascade through our fingers
time unspools between our hands
while the past drinks from our open palms.
The air crackles with floating florets
each breath a promise, unspoken but heard.
If love were a color it'd be you—
violet and velvet
honey and slow-mountain dew
the universe holds its breath;
galaxies halt their ancient waltz
as they struggle to name us.
And if forever had a flavor
it would stain my tongue—
sweet, dark, endless—
a love so vast
even creation forgets what came before it.
We are the first poem ever written
and the last song left unsung
our love the verse that never fades—
Just like lavender licorice and lemonade lakes.
Yesterday was Pi Day;
Today it is the Ides.
Monday is St. Patrick’s Day,
Where Irish pride resides.
The rest of March is nondescript
But as the month unspools,
We’re heading toward the date
To celebrate those April fools!
Affable people
are likeable fools
Divorced from the moment
their banter unspools
Affable people
in search of a creed
Amusing examples
— of folly indeed
(Dreamsleep: March, 2025)
When people said that Ruth should go,
I argued they were wrong.
Today, of course, we sadly know
She stuck around too long.
Unfortunately, now it seems
We’re destined to repeat
Mistakes to ruin all our dreams
And knock us off our feet.
Dear Jill, your husband’s done his best
To bring this country back,
But nothing seems to have suppressed
Each worrying attack.
No matter if he has the strength
And gumption to go on,
Opponents will seek any length
To guarantee he’s gone.
Perception’s power overrules
Reality, and so,
Before democracy unspools,
Let’s save the status quo.
Your influence is needed now
For Joe must step aside
And such a move might just allow
The cause to stem the tide.
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