Those who sing by the sea
draw a breeze
that lifts white wings
of foam from the deep
When Evangelia sings—
sitting at the pier, her office hairdo
smoothed just so, breasts and belly
in a swimsuit’s silky cling—
her voice is a riffle of doves
flown down from chalky cliffs
it’s the white and white
of wings above
saltwater’s wimpled hue,
it’s the poet’s covey of words
streaming along
this blue, green, blue
Dear Reader, Who knew that a can-can dancer from the posters of Toulouse Lautrec would…
Eternal Return A crocus from the rotting flesh of a hedgehog, placed with the pansies…
Full Moon at Montmartre Claudette’s a can-can girl high-kickin’ it under the red windmill. She…
In the Light of Peace --painting by Bruce King of the Oneida Nation The travelers…
A Quad of Golden Shovels Internal Conversation at the beginning of Winter Wet and beautiful…