Pilgrimage: email

I just deleted
three hundred thirty-four
messages

three
hundred
thirty-four

and that is not all
yet all those voices
tried to tell me

something
wanted to let me know
I am here

and so
are
you

#3 Journey With

For when the snow stills, it turns to rain

And see, the metal foot rest is not entirely tarnished yet

We are moving slowly even though the seat's fallen in

And the animals are all sleeping in a nuzzle of a team

Nowhere to be seen.

Third Day: When the Rain Stops

we are at
Cole Coffee
where food is the accessory
that coffee wears
we get lattes and a cinnamon
twist and gaze out
through steamy windows
at necessary rain
and black umbrellas
unfurling like mournful
morning glories

#2 About this Place: Journey

Shake a leg

Roll back the rug

Heaven is an

optical illusion

Until you get there

where the music

made of earth tones

is a little bit wicked

hopping

on the fringe.

Journey: Day 2: Orchids

the bright pink orchids
clustered on the sidewalk
all we need is frogs

About This Place #1

Who spilt the pink ink?

The sky here, a hurricane

of eyelid fluttering

drive-by color

Everything they told you

about this place.

Pilgrimage: Day 1: Roses

walking to the bank
I spy a rose bush blooming
sunset on a twig