Tipping Dominos

Losing morning after morning,

hermetically sealed inside a

windowed room 

crowded 

with ten foot wooden ladders

he rants his Poet-ness

atop a 

plastic footstool.

B.F.M.

Expectations

Betwixt two maypoles
light contorts, yet
I’m to walk up right
without support.

B.F.M

Earlier in the day I posted and image from my notebook, the before. This is the after.

Click here to see the before.

Sunday Rain

I wasn't crying
then the rain came,
and we both wept in sheets.

B.F.M.

This Exact Morning Moment

I’m as kind
as a porcupine
as long as you don’t 
know
what a porcupine is 
and think
a pin cushion 
is cozy.

B.F.M.

Dust Storms

Your elders gloat like lilly pads
on a pond
under sunscreen and broad hats

thousands of miles from their 
grown children.

Then the call comes:
“your mother, she fell”;
"your father, has a spot, lump, cough.”

All this is an unexpected thunder storm 
carpeting your sun.

You don’t know it yet, but you’ve 
just been drafted into the minor leagues
playing for a team plagued by dust storms.

B.F.M.

Lover's Call

Caught off guard
she calls my name 
like an office mate
needing a paperclip.

B.F.M.

Desert Poppy

Click on image for a larger view.

Desert Poppy
16" x 20"
2012
Digital prints available.

Artist: B.F.M.

So many wildflowers in the Sonoran Desert. The monsoon season brings them out; it's a lovely surprise for the uninitiated here in the Tucson area. Enjoy.

Remember what your mother said: share.

Dolt

Sitting under 
a cottonwood 


pretending 
I’m a poet


I listen 
to echoes


plunder 
a breeze.


B.F.M.

Advertising : Poet Laureate

If I hold my spectacles
in my right hand, placing
one of its hinged arms
in the right corner of my mouth
like the posing Billy Collins
on the back flap of 
Horoscopes for the Dead
will I too once have been
the Poet Laureate?


B.F.M.