the amount of light
expressed equals how much of
our dark we explore
Nov 12, 2022
Nov 12, 2022 at 9:31 AM UTC
There is a deep honor befriending an elder;
returning the blessings that we've been bestowed.
Also a frisson of fear we have held, for
we pray we are gifted with honor, not owed .
Jul 16, 2022
Jul 16, 2022 at 10:36 AM UTC
I thought you would burst
from unexploded laughter
when my ten-year-old self
knocked at your door
in my Sunday best
fresh-picked dandelions
in my grimy hands
as permission was granted
to court your daughter
Thirty years later, you made
the grievous error
of asking your daughter
if she wanted to attend
my mother's wake
the mother who always said
I would marry that daughter
Today that daughter
prepares her pilgrimage
to home and bedside
a journey I can't take
because we are fellow travelers
and you boarded the express
Our lives have always been twisted;
yes, literally and figuratively
between friend and family
I pray you safe and quiet passage
and will let you know
how the kids and grandkids are doing
when I catch you on the second shift
Jun 25, 2022
Jun 25, 2022 at 12:41 PM UTC
Give me a moment
and seventeen syllables;
I will move your world.
Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 9:19 PM UTC
The mind will deceive.
It will read the exub-
erant writings of youth
as if still steeped neck-deep
in the turmoil of lust,
while the still-breathing dust
of its mortal remains
casts its gaze through the tears
from the distance of years
Jun 16, 2022
Jun 16, 2022 at 1:24 PM UTC
if there is nothing human
about humanity
what's to save
it's not the pandemic
that keeps us separate
it's the dehumanization
and the demonization
the demoralization
we heap upon each other
no poet
can survive the lack
of friction
between their lives
and the lives of others
this artificial suspension
of everyday life
wrapping ourselves
in tight-lipped tolerance
or inflamed outrage
does nothing
but extend the isolation
the flimsy rope bridges
that cross the chasms
of derision
sway in the winds
of anarchy
those still able
and are willing
to communicate
must.
Jan 21, 2022
Jan 21, 2022 at 12:49 AM UTC
what does a survivor do
upon the re-entry into life?
Oct 4, 2021
Oct 4, 2021 at 1:38 AM UTC
When offered the gift
of myself, I no longer
seek the return desk.
Sep 11, 2021
Sep 11, 2021 at 11:50 AM UTC
there would be no sleep
this night
wracked with reckoning
futile cup of decaf cooling
minutes become
memories murmuring
recriminations reverberate
bowed head nodding
over quiescent keyboard
as vivid visions vanish
one
into
another
hesitant hours hovering
errors echoing
in void of forgiveness
aching agony of awareness
becomes brutal
he receives respite
as night became day
he understood what truth
could be known
he has only himself
and the day before him
and so he lay down
and so his eyes close
in the light of morning
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 12:15 PM UTC
He was a simple man of simple words,
or high-school girl with broken heart who thought
they had a message, or a call, or not.
Arriving with a sense of the absurd,
a bittersweet purview on life and love,
together with a gift for nuanced phrase,
appreciating how the language plays
upon the mind and tongue, they rise above
the well-worn similes, the tired cliches
for days, perhaps for weeks. Then comes the time
when human ugliness shows up to flay
the budding poet. The evidence of crimes
committed: smoky circles, nameless gray
reminders of whose gifts they took away.
Feb 4, 2021
Feb 4, 2021 at 11:06 PM UTC