Poetry

Reveille

The moon is leaving too soon.  A bell of a glistening bugle, it swirls silvery notes through half-closed blinds across the early-morning room, composing a refracted lyric next to the antique mirror and a picture of a child playing near… Read More ›

At the Feeder

The cardinal watches me through the kitchen window,  reddish-brown breast,  orange tuft and beak,  hooded-eyes fathoms deep.   She stares into the glass,  begging answers to my question: Where, sweet bird, is your  handsome life-mate  of last summer?   Now,… Read More ›

Memorial

I. Someone from Somerset, or a group of them, beat him for embezzling their money. That’s what my older brother, Charley,   told me. But Mother, back then, said he was robbed in an alley and came away with a broken arm… Read More ›

O Pioneers

She said I should wait for her call. I sat watching the phone, worried. She and I didn’t get along, that’s true.   When she rang, I knew where she was going as she proceeded to commend me for traveling… Read More ›

Lumps

The Lumps Appeared Ten Days Ago All Over My Back And neck– Like Snow. Only Worse. **** My Doctor Insists She can Pick Them Off As quick As they Pop up If I Wish. Like Pimples– Only More So. ****… Read More ›

Instantaneously

She races from phantoms  and me. Hides in the strangest places.   She sees.  Faces me.   Woohoo! I say. Woohoo! Woohoo!    There she goes chased by demons. Eluding me.   Now I’ll never find her. (So she believes.)  … Read More ›

Pheidippides

I know no rivers, no forests, no fields. I know pavement and concrete — and how hard fulfillment feels on my feet, my back, the sun, the heat as temperatures rise. I know the relentless wind, drenching rain, and numbing… Read More ›

Rocky Mountain Ticks

Rocky Mountain Ticks Roaming around – On top of my head. (Now that’s alarming!)   My wife won’t stop  Long enough to touch them. (She thinks ticks are Disgusting.)   Listen, mister, I’m not touching ticks (Without surgical gloves, A mask, and… Read More ›

Mountain Meadow

Purple flowers blossoming in a Mountain meadow; tiny, white flowers Shaking off a long, harsh winter; Hundreds of dark, yellow bees Climbing pink, floral stems and each Other – droning, drunk, and alive; the Musky smell of Douglas fur and… Read More ›

My Wife Can’t Sleep

Late at night I listen – to my wife moving around in our kitchen, floor boards groaning, pans burning, mixer mixing.   Or the sound of the TV, my wife watching another Nazi documentary.   My wife empathizes with the holocaust victims,… Read More ›

I Read You Were Lost

I read you were lost, Sitting on my bed Too drained From my daughter’s Good-bye.   I couldn’t stop Reading.  It will be months, Before she’s back In our lives.   On a tropical beach Clouds streaming Across a salt-filled… Read More ›

The Pacific is Never Blue

Coastal currents creating Rip-tides of aqua and turquoise. Rolling waves crashing in white Flames on black jagged lava. Brown seed pods bobbing Buoyant in white effervescent froth. Lucent crabs piercing grayish Bubbles on moist brown sand. Hibiscus flutter maddeningly Red under swaying palms…. Read More ›

Families

Lives lived and lost in time. Who were they and why did they die? I thought you knew back when I was young, But it was a lie.  Time passes So fast. Details become someone’s generalities and Subtleties lose their… Read More ›

So He’s Dead

So he’s dead. A life well lived, Lived well. So they said. Died yesterday. Born eighty years ago, Died in a coma – 104 days from diagnosis. A man we thought would Live forever. Twenty-three years my senior, Who admonished… Read More ›

Winter

It’s cancerous! Snow-like, drifting through our lives. Silence, long and sad. Friends emerging, suffering, Madness, sweeping through our lives. It’s freezing!  Wake up! Your touch so cold. ****

Catching a Train

I have this old, cardboard Suitcase, black, rusty-claps shut, More like a trunk really, Hidden with years and curiosities. This old, cardboard – Suitcase, stuffed-full, packed – Away, nearly-forgotten. My trunk. More like a suitcase, really, That tramps would use… Read More ›

Waimea Bay

She crosses the sand aloof The cool loner on a retreat, No one owns her but the sea and the beach.   She chooses her spot Unties the mid-drift knot  Of her unbuttoned shirt. Casually she steps out of her… Read More ›

Vision

I once Believed I held A vision, But it Was all in —   My head. Everything I say Says Nothing, And nothing —   Needs said. Where have I gone To come To this? I wish I —