Sunday, July 15, 2018


With weed trees cut (they grow more than a foot a week in this climate), the Jerusalem artichokes (a tuber/sunflower) are the tallest things in the garden.

Saturday, July 14, 2018


after the rain
the ground squelches for days
under my wheels



It began with a stain
a fluorescent orange blot
about quarter size
I scrubbed and scrubbed
finally ground it down
the next day:
bigger than ever
brighter in color
covered with blue caps
I thought they were pretty
until they exploded in my face
every place the spores landed
they started to grow.

We in our orange majesty
sail through space
dispense our largess
at every port of call

Friday, July 13, 2018


frog strangler
hits the garden hard
cement blanket


The Wrong Foot

The biochemists said the native fruit
Weren’t poisonous, and they were healthy too
They tasted better than we’d ever had
We finished off the last of them before
Some aliens with woven baskets came
They looked upon denuded trees, then us
Juice quickly wiped from dripping chins and hands
The looks we got before they slipped away!

We headed for our ship; we saw black smoke
Ran then, and found our landing craft aflame
And nothing we could salvage from the fire
Before the mother ship could rescue us
A flight of spears flew from beneath the trees
Please tell my husband that I love--

Thursday, July 12, 2018


The Worm Ouroboros

We live and love, but rising underneath
The Word that ends it all is uttered soft
It tears the world apart and chaos yawns
As space and time like tissue paper rent
Are whelmed by nothingness and then are gone
Another Word engendered everything
Contained annihilation’s deadly seed
A toxic portion of Creation’s plan.

Now gone are empires, stars, and planets too
The pain of life and death we bid farewell
But when all matter, energy have passed
And nothing anywhere exists at all
Just wait (though time its tocking breath holds in)
The board’s re-set; it’s time to move again.


rain each day
so planting is impossible
pots fill to bursting