most admire the beauty, the bloom, the color

for some, it’s the long elegant stems that go all the way up

a few contrarians and cynics study the thorns

but for me, it’s the hips

i’ll sit and have tea with those hips

i’ll smoke a little hip

hips are hip

i’m able to enjoy hips because they have cured all my diseases

they’ve made my skin smooth and blemish-free

god hid many secrets in hips

instead of a ring or a bouquet, when i proposed

i gave my love a bucket of hips

her hips aren’t too shabby either


For Friday Fictioneers


Could you converse with an ant?

Talk to her about going to work? That’s what she does and you do too.

Off she marches, same old same old. What about you?

The ants in the next nest? She’ll ignore them or fight them, but never cooperate with them. If she goes over there, they all look alike to her.

You could talk about how your social life is the pits. Couple of girls get all the guys, because they’re to die for.

Or you could talk about how you sometimes get antsy, while she gets peopley.

I’d rather converse with my aunt.


For the Daily Post

The Laughing Man

My mom used to bring home men for pay.

I’d take to my room and stay there until they were finished.

You know the story.

Years later we’d sit together on the porch and get high.

“What about that one guy?” I said one time.

“The man who laughed?”

I nodded.

“His name was Stephan. He wanted to be tickled,” mom said. “My only customer who asked for that.”

“It’s a thing, I guess.”

“We came in and for a change,” mom said, “he wanted to tickle me.”


“That’s what I said. Why would you want to tickle me?”


“He said he liked me,” mom said. “He said he wanted me to experience what he experienced. You’re paying the freight, I said.”

“Did he make you laugh?”

“He started by putting in a tape. This was back when there were tapes. I said, what the heck is that?”

“Whale song, he said. I laughed at that but after a while it started to get to me. He had me on my back on the bed and he massaged my feet and then my hands. He stretched out my arms one at a time and shook them lightly to relax them. He massaged my scalp. All the time with the whales.

“He had a hypnotic voice. I was drifting. Then he touched my ribs, high up on both sides. It was unexpected. I laughed.

“He was an expert, much better than me at tickling. I’m sure he had tickled women before. I couldn’t control myself. It sort of escalated. I was out of my mind laughing.”

“And then, like he would do, I suddenly burst into tears. Like a well full of sadness uncovered itself in my mind. Memories. They overflowed. He held me until it was over. I was so happy. Glowing.

“Later I tried it with others but it never happened again.”


For Flash Fiction Challenge

A Dozen Roses

my darling
for our divorce
one dozen rose stems
grab them with a bare hand
like you grabbed my heart


For Addicted to Purple


nature conversant
with the universe at large
improvises man


For The Daily Post