A woman imbibes the last hours of sun,

a gull dives for mussels,

a few ships fade on the smoky horizon,

I smell the coming fall in the dry grass parched from summer

I feel the crisp in the breeze that has replaced balmy evenings

— there is always an…

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I could whisper a spell
from my lips that are blue,
blue is my tongue,
(here I’ll show them to you)
my mouth it is blue
so cold and icy,
my spell sweet and spicy,
never dark and dicey,
my fingers are blue
talons of Belasko,
my tongue coated blue,
blue kisses for you,
all that remains
are blueberry stains……

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David Clode

I ate a water melon slice,

sank right into my teeth and scented my mouth summer,

down dripped the sweetness of a lazy afternoon under bougainvillea boughs watching ants marching to and fro

and cicada nights lit with kerosene lamps where somewhere plays a radio.

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Credit-Luc Tribolet on Unsplash

Above Burrard bridge,
a land of puffy clouds emerge as the rain stops and
crows drop mussels from the skies
on the concrete,

under it,
the Granville island barnacles sing in icy waters snugly holding
the bottoms of boats
— I stand at sunset beach and watch,

a crow on…

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Photo by Une fille en vadrouille on Unsplash

In my soft dreams of you,
I reach out to touch your almost forgotten fragrance.
Elusive and hanging by a starlight thread
beautiful and out of reach.

If I grasp you,
I know you will take me down old hazy roads
where passion fruits wildly spilt open,
bursting sweet,yellow,juicy in the…

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