another daydream

another daydream

Tuesday, September 18, 2018

Reading the Leaves

Machu Picchu, Peru

Pause. Partake of tea. 
Switch the swell of crisis off
a boil––to savor
harvested serenity.
Steep a fragrant cup.

                  ~ LCMH

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

Farming a Poem

Small Feast

A poem is like a potato.
If you dig in the right place,
you find food from the soil.
And it’s not your toil
that placed it there––
it’s the yield of
your imperfection.
Don’t put it in the larder
to save for another
time, to look for better.
Give it to us whole, baked.
Say grace. Then part the skin
so the steam brings us
face to face.


Tuesday, August 7, 2018

Woo the Day

Anne Bachelier, artist
(with reflection by day)


Woo the day.
Courtesy to coat 
over a puddle morose, 
so she may cross
the strewn morass––

your jacket
pumiced by day's
dainty gait. 

In the morn
she was a foal.
Fresh as 
you were feisty
to break her in.

By the gloaming,
foaming at the mouth. 
Saddled, she likens to
a lady sashaying streets
in all conditions. 

The bit in your teeth,
you lag behind,

With a curtsy, she’ll bring the dew. 
Sometimes a token.
A horseshoe in the grass. 


Sunday, July 22, 2018

The Little Prince Abecedarius

Le Petit Prince

Art: boa constrictor
devours elephant. 
For grown-ups—
hat inferred. 
Journey knight-like,
lightyears mystical. 
Nonsensical orders, 
Rose speaks to us 
writer Exupéry’s 
yellow-haired zephyr. 


Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Forwarding Address

Forwarding Address

Never mind: the tiffs,
tumbleweeds of parched weeks,
weaknesses that crevice deep,
fault lines of fear.  

Rise from your grave years.

Give sadness:
no cozy sanctuary,
no hall of sterile statuary, 
no sugarcoating polish.  

Etch a sylvan trail through tarnish.


Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Instagram Inspired

"Wayword" originally published in Englyn Journal, Issue Two
Also shared on Instagram, where you can follow me, charhogepoet:

Friday, June 8, 2018



When a door closes, there
was never a door. Or,
I could be wrong.

In Thailand it’s bad luck
to step squarely
onto thresholds––even
with shoes removed.

Be aware of a crossroads
to enter a place––
leave the rubble of the road
and go unlaced, eyelets
with their strings attached
left on the stoop.

Upon return,
check for small frogs nestled
in footbeds.
Make no assumption
that things are as they have been. 


Friday, May 18, 2018


Orange Vest 

On an old shale logging road
we cross one stream, another,
farther and farther

stirring our own sap upward,
sluggish, we meander on instinct,
pick up the pace in our woods  

we’ve walked over and over
a hundred acres is what it takes
to lose track of what infiltrates

headlines of papers and posts;
we pass the remnant of a fence
rubble mound of a cairn

on a slope of land an echo
away from hunters domain
our dominion ribboned in

rays that splinter through trees,
we proceed vested as human-
kind to remind we are not prey