Little black kittens,
A toddler's drawing,
Of sunflowers.
Those who pass on,
Possess such,
Mystical powers.

How do we go on,
With hearts,
So raw and torn?...
Know their love,
Surrounds you,
In magical forms.


In memory of Marika.

One foggy morn,
On a rocky hillside,
I came upon two,
Flowers so wild.
Standing as one,
Yet, side by side,
They were as if,
Madonna & child.

Desert flowers. Malibu, CA

Of sweet pie,
I am a fan.
Not let down,
At the Pan.

Banana Cream,
Was my pick.
Plate and fork,
I did lick.

The Apple Pan. Los Angeles, CA

As if a dream,
It often does seem;
Living life,
In my Airstream.

Airstream. Malibu, CA

Pink flamingo,
Status quo,
Quasi Moto,
Sony Bono,
Edgar Allan Poe.
Larry, Curly and Moe.

The meaning,
Of this poem;
I don't know.
Maybe just silliness,
Ending,
In the sound of "Oh."

Pink Flamingos. Paradise Cove, CA

We humans,
Struggling with life.
Control we seek.

Who are we kiddin?
We ain't never gonna be,
In the driver's seat.

Boxer in white truck. Santa Rosa, CA

What's the difference
Between the mirror, and me?

Is my reflection of what was,
What is, or what will be?


Åirstream, Caravel. Paradise Cove, Malibu

Few things are as sweet,
Magical or sublime,
As an adoringly faithful,
Loving canine.

Mocha. West Sonoma County

Not much to,
Say today,
Except...
Happy Mother's Day.

Boston Terrier. Sebastopol, CA

Sonoma soldiers,
Line after line.
Banded together,
Brothers in vine.

Standing strøng,
Under the shine.
Defending freedom,
Of vintage wine.

Vineyard. West Sonoma County, CA

What direction?
When to start?

Simply really:
Follow your heart.

Cast Iron Heart.
West Sonoma County, CA

Just how long we live,
Nobody knows.
So make sure ya eat,
Your share of Oreos.

Oreos. Santa Rosa, CA

The sweetest things in life,
Ya just can't buy.
No matter who ya know,
No matter what ya try.

Gonna do all I can,
Before I up 'n die.
Glad I gotta piece,
Of Gramma's skillet pie.*

Gramma Murphy's Skillet Apple Pie.
West Sonoma County, CA
[*baked by granddaughter, Jane Pritchard.]

New to the world,
Wings still wet,
I wanna fly,
But not ready yet.

Recently left,
My spiritual cocoon.
Am making plans,
To take flight soon.


Newborn Moth. West Sonoma County

Like a honeybee,
In his comb,
Is living within,
My new home.

Whilst on my travels,
And just because,
Write me an e-mail,
Or gimme a buzz.

Honeycomb. Arcata, CA

Life can be a bitch.
Make ya wanna scream,
"Just Fuck it!"

In moments like these,
May I suggest a purchase,
Of flowers in a bucket.

Flowers in buckets. Arcata, CA

Whenever I feel,
The need to be "right"
It takes away my power,
Love and light.

Red flowers don't try,
To change the white.
Preach, moralize,
Or flex their red-might.

Flowers, need we be,
To gain this insight?
Accepting one another,
Regardless of plight.

White flower. Arcata, CA