I’m a lover and
a poet I approach
A bed and page
Much the same way
Computers and phones are
Like relationships complicated difficult
Time consuming to navigate
Ah but my typewriter
My typewriter and paper
Are like a lover
Already naked and waiting
Prone and arms outstretched
Beckoning come here love
Let us explore each
Other like those nighttime’s
Before let your fingers
Wander as slowly or
Quickly as your mind
Tastes the vision of
My breast and let
Us climb and fall
And climb higher and
Fall lower at last
Until you murmur aaahhh
Category: Friendship
DayAndPrey
Throwing open the curtains
Coffee cup in hand
Steam rises and fogs
The window panes like
My grandmothers soup to
My grandfathers eyeglasses when
I visited as child
The glow begins in
The east like toaster
Wires after bread has
Been lowered like cannonballs
Onto catapults clouds lumber
Past like drunken sailors
Returning to ships after
Shore leave as people
And their pets wander
About sniffing the ground
And air like wolves
Seeking out the scents
Of day and prey
WisdomsOrchard
Wisdom I had asked
Why have you forgotten
I am still here
It’s you who has
Stopped listening to me
No I have asked
And yes I have
Answered but not the
Question that you asked
My son Wisdom said
The Universe is plump
With answers but like
A man that wanders
Into an orchard and
Picks the apple he
Wants you should start
Behaving like the owner
That harvests all fruits
And then decides which
Ones become one thing
Or another based not
Upon look but promise
It’sMorning
There is something about
The last bit of
Night the cracker crunch
Of brittle snow beneath
Feet the cold ache
Of arthritic car doors
And the growling of
Icy tired car engines
That reminds me of
Morning and as the
World starts its march
You slide in beside
Me warm and fresh
Like a Turkish towel
And wrap your arms
Around me like a
River otter to offspring
As your hair fresh
From water and lavender
Tickles my nose a
Kiss lands upon my
Lips like an envelope
Slid through the mail
Slot softly floating to
The floor signaling me
That today is here
MorningJazz
I no longer desire
Yearn or long for
Like a phonograph needle
That has found its
Groove after years of
Skipping I can at
Last and once again
Hum those deliciously high
Notes and whiskered snares
And plucked bass lows
Of early morning jazz
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 