I hear a baby crying through my Echo. It cries under the music no matter what station  I ask Alexa to play. Someone, please, get your baby. His crying is past the point of screaming,  He makes the hoarse whine… Read More ›


That morning, sunlight shines through the house in a different way. Saul, wakes up, shakes Rachel, “My god, it’s happening, like they say –   Remember? ‘When the sun rises in the South and sets in the North, heed the… Read More ›


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 ›

Son and Moon

Ghost in the afternoon, the moon dangles,  a pocked trophy my boy pretends to drive.  He dreams of monster trucks  and something cool to blow up come Fourth of July.   At light, the moon snatches at wild grass, lost… 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 ›

Southern Snow Storm

My neighbors trudge out of their homes, like gnomes,  after a two-day storm so unnatural for the South, wearing worn  garments from deep in their closets—knit caps, scratchy   coats, and old ski gloves—surveying their roofs and pines  to determine the… Read More ›

Winter Hours

Nudging your shoulder reaching for the clock. I had a bad dream. Hon, it’s cold, go back to sleep. Picking up the newspaper near our ice-covered mailbox—headlines soaked, pages frozen, obituaries lost to the late-night storm—our driveway smothered in a… Read More ›

I Dream a Storm

The rain pounces in violent waves, stripping trees  and bursting streams with a torrent of pine and clay.  Venomous snakes thrive, slithering across  the crumbling sky. Ahead of us, sparkling crack-offs  contort in a demented dance of electric shocks  on the… Read More ›


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 ›


We met in a rupture of this world, missing pieces to cross the void. What kept us from heights so imagined? Why swim in a swamp so contagious?   I’ve been deceived. It’s true, this loss. But I know now … Read More ›


Trash sorter breaking drywall  copper wire, coal miner open pit fire, iron forger stoking flames higher, higher. I know  what’s real: iron,  copper,  steel. ****  


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 ›


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 ›


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 ›