Gathering last month’s poems together and posting here is taking much more time than expected.  And here we are on the eve of San Geronimo Feast Day and I’m only half way through August.  Written in a flurry, decorated with a beautiful stamp and tossed in a mailbox to go flailing across the universe or maybe just down to Seattle, these poems want a more permanent home.  So, I’ll take my time and pursue this task.  Sweet dreams and happy days.


PHOTO CREDIT:  Edmund Lowe

Rorschach In Her Belly

Bye, bye Bellingham,

she thinks, wraps Ganesh

in an old paisley scarf

from Goodwill.

Pigeon droppings scar

her battered VW bug.

She empties the rooms

of herself, what he’ll never

miss.  Her.  Her stuff.

Morning mist freckles

numb lips.

She will miss Mt. Baker

shining in the rear view mirror.

 C.J. Prince



About cjprinceauthor

I write. I read. I write and read...I listen to raindrops on begonias, talk to ravens, dance with dragons. I practice Tai Chi in a barn, I sleep with earth stones and tarot cards. I celebrate each day. Join me!
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