A folktale I made up about how the kangaroo got its pouch.

Traditional 5/7/5 haiku.

I wonder what it would be like to lie beneath the waves of darkest blue.

My fervent attempt to become an artist in the beginning.

Fantasy poem about a narrator riding a sea horse up through the heavens in the day. Seeing the moon, then returning to earth, as the moon metomorphs back to gold.

Clouds sing – at least, in this poem they do. Have you heard them?