- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Spaghetti Sauce Whistle
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The sound of the pleading eyes of the spaghetti sauce whistle
Casts red far and wide and forms blossoms and orchards from thistle—
During the equinox, in the afternoon and the evening.
Lively slithering and crawling—amid the flowers springing.
Soap bubbles floating in the air. Songbirds singing everywhere.
Children at play with no care. Their squealing also fills the air.
Beyond the horizon are the farm house, barn and empty school.
The spring equinox is here, and celebration is the rule.
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