Most beautiful grief. The classic shape of the weeping rose. A sudden smile puts the day in your face. Who cares if night’s flight is an illusion. And those eyes. They repeat what you don’t say. I’ll get over. I’ve gotten over. On with your day, flower with a little self-watering. Nothing so contrived has... Continue Reading →

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” Kahlil Gibran The old man watched her shadow moving away in the widdershins wind, saw her eyes watching eternity through the tears of God, and his thoughts staggered over illusions veiled in emotions that there whispering themselves into oblivion.... Continue Reading →

The winter trees reach their crooked boughs to the sky, their meandering bones now unburdened by the weight of summer's fleshy foliage. I envy their redundancy, their ability to repeat themselves year after year without hesitation or apology. They know nothing of pandemics or polemics. Taking their time, they shift effortlessly from death to life... Continue Reading →

With each intimacy you leave a portion to another being. Piece by piece, you lose bits of yourself to one more person. Proprium has it: slivers of your little secret lie with this or that entity. And, you stand by for the Molotov cocktail to go kablooey. It is best to be inbound. One with... Continue Reading →

That first time I held your hand, I found recognition and lust. Our fingers, our palms seemed to have meshed, This deep intuition that captivated my spirit. We had danced and toked up, Looked into each other’s eyes, We had not kissed yet. We were waiting For cues from a kismet that lurked. A cosmology... Continue Reading →

The crack became a slash almost splitting her in two. She could have sought help, could have driven to heal it, But after a while she quite liked it. It had become part of her and she felt it became her and who knew what would emerge to wriggle and squeeze though the gap. *First... Continue Reading →

Even now my fingers feel the touch of sponge; as if my father's body were mutated into an aquatic invertebrate before his last breath. Since then I have been regretting me for escaping the route my father coming after smoking a cigarette. If there were a second coming of the shadow without his body, not... Continue Reading →

You have come to a time when everything is loss— your parents dead, your friends dying or gone south. You have come to a time when you have money and nothing you care to do with it, though you take cruises, spoil the grandkids, redecorate the house, which, schooled in irony, echoes as if abandoned.... Continue Reading →

Bed sheet twisted like a cyclone argument sustained in sleep now dawn, flowers still except the lavender nodding from a bumblebee its slight weight oscillating, arcing the purple stalks let me return to you let my words be as delicate Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com About the Poet: Jeff Burt lives in Santa Cruz County,... Continue Reading →

The items you once owned, And loved, Are arrayed on the driveway, Values affixed to all their years On stickers numbered with pen. Pages once read, thumbed carefully, Will be creased by someone else. As you parcel out these pieces Of yourself, They reach untouched corners of the Earth, And you wonder about their reborn... Continue Reading →