cuttlefish don’t try to record their every move
an eagle, a frog, a squirrel
the music of Pearlrose softer than a chorus of trumpets
we are leaves on a tree…a child’s autumn dream
I feel his heartbeat
increased lethality in confined spaces
tomorrow we ride horses in the forest where it is cooler
the myths of our abrupt arrival
the hidden reserves of darkness and lies
we always return to the beauty and the sorrow
years ago it was so simple
now I am wholly naked on the edge of the road
your coat is smoking and my tongue is afire
the sun undone
burn and be blessed
I must overcome it to break back into the world
eating decadence where lines form traveler’s experience
regardless of how far they veer from the norm
bone slide, delicate inside
they all end up in somebody’s belly
the foxglove rises tall and charms…the residents
listening to the little black birdie on your shoulder
you know how I’d like it?  rich
things that aren’t anymore…what’s next?
this return to what constitutes…the source
world peace a bumper sticker

Many thanks to the courageous poets who sent their fledgling poems–quick drafts of the moment–winging their way to my mailbox. You have inspired me! More on my own poem generation through this process at the end of the month. Thanks, also, to Paul Nelson who initiated this event.
P.S. If you want to know the source of a particular line, I will seek to unscramble the handwriting and happily give credit where credit is due–Yours in poetry, Rachel