Brainstorm after Dry Spell

Mind’s eye spies gusher in olives 

After cleansing rain leaves oil slick.

Out-of-the-box Thinking Straight from the Centaur's Mouth

What are you looking at, buster? It happens 

I was years ahead of my time so 

If you think you’re a forerunner, 

Sink your teeth into this— 

My head could’ve been a horse’s ass 

Just like yours, running backwards. 

Late Winter Metamorphoses

This motionless old woman 

Looks like nothing so much 

As a lone black coat left on a bench. 

But she stirs 

As I approach and notice a grey blur 

Departing her left shoulder—a large locust 

Now fully airborne, heading I think, for the sun. 

Foolproof Modus Operandi

Just keep saying you’re nobody’s fool

Making sure nobody’s around to prove it. 

Raison D'être?

Because they are splendid 

Windbreakers, cypresses ring cemeteries— 

But that’s not the only reason 

They take our breath away.