"I Love Myself!"
I refuse to say it because that would be
Self-Centered, Boastful, Narcissistic, Inward Looking
That's not how it is supposed to be
I am supposed to look to
Serve Others, Help The Helpless, Be Selfless
Can I hold both in my hand at the same time?
If I love myself I am more likely to have the courage to love others
I have had hated myself in the past
(And sometimes in the present)
With that hate inside me
There is no space in that dark room for love
I am no longer going to refuse to say so
"I Love Myself!"
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 9:50 AM UTC
A soccer ball in a field waiting to be kicked
Not by me of course
But by someone much younger than me
But maybe the soccer ball wouldn't mind being kicked by me
My right foot isn't what it once was
And my left foot just never was
I'd go easy on the ball
Maybe roll it over once or twice to get some of the dust off it
Or bounce it like a basketball or
Perhaps drop kick it like an old football player
One from the '30s with the leather helmet
And the big black cleats
Would the soccer ball appreciate that?
A foot coming towards it in all anger and spikes?
What if I just leave the soccer ball where it sits and let a butterfly land on it
Then we can both go back to what we were doing
The soccer ball sitting in the field
And me listening to the sparrows chatter through the brush
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 11:03 AM UTC
The river was a perfect flow of tide
The barking dog was a perfect pitch of happiness
The robin's call was a perfect melody of sound
The breeze on my skin was a perfect touch of salt
The sky was a perfect shade of dusk
And my evening stroll was a perfect touch of spring
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 9:46 PM UTC
The threshold
In the morning when I leave
In the evening when I return
It gets my best
It gets my worst
I won't look past it tomorrow
I will ask it to help make my day the best it can be
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 8:41 AM UTC
The pile of leaves across the street
Hibernated under snow all winter
Now they have been raked across the yard
Spring Clean-Up
Longer grasses and sticks poke out of the pile
Are they trying to get out
Or back into the warmth of the pile
Like climbing back under the covers
On a January morning
Stray leaves peel off in the wind
And tumble down the street
Like the kindergartener who can't stay in line
The leaves and the kid looking for a different adventure
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 1:02 PM UTC
Old Mill
When was your first brick laid
Old Mill
With you soot darkened smokestack
Old Mill
Next to the river
Old Mill
Train tracks right inside
Old Mill
The windows still there
Old Mill
The wide planks floors
Old Mill
Remember the looms
Old Mill
The center of town
Old Mill
The boss sat upstairs
Old Mill
As cold in January as hot in July
Old Mill
The little hands once worked in your cellars
Old Mill
Now converted to lofts
Old Mill
Don't give up your secrets
Old Mill
Continue to stand urbanly proud
Apr 8
Apr 8, 2026 at 7:56 PM UTC
All of these restaurants are miles away
And I don't have a car
I just got off the bus
And I don't feel like getting back on there
To smell **** and despair
Like I just did from the guy sitting in front of me
Who was watching what looked like a 6 inch TV
You know the ones from the 80's
That had those long antennas
Which were great if you wanted to watch the six o'clock news
Like my father did
But no good for me
When I wanted to watch MTV and try and catch the video for Thriller
Or Metallica's One
I was never good at working the VCR in time to record
So I would go to my friend Brian's house
And sit in his bedroom while he pooped in the tape
We would watch the end of a car commercial
Before the crickets started chirping
And Michael Jackson's car broke down
After which we would walk up to Pioneer Pizza and get a couple of slices
If I had Pioneer Pizza near me now
That is where I would be walking for dinner
Instead of staring at the list of restaurants
For the category of food that I want
That all sit 8.1 miles away and farther
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 5:49 PM UTC
(A moment caught between light and silence, almost close enough to hold.)
I carried the evening lightly,
as though it might slip through my hands,
the way your voice once did
when you paused mid‑sentence,
letting the unfinished thought
settle between us
like dust in a quiet room.
Outside, the street held its breath,
as if waiting for something
it could not quite name.
A single window glowed across the square,
a reminder that someone else
was awake with their own
unspoken fragments.
The air shifted,
carrying the faint scrape of a chair,
small sounds already fading
even as they arrive.
And in that thinning light,
I understood how easily
a moment can pass through you
without ever revealing
what it meant to say.
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 10:04 AM UTC
Training wheels aside
Dad yells "Pedal!" from the walk
The bike sways left, right
Mom runs behind hand on seat
Mom lets go-freedom is born
Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 5:12 PM UTC
Hey Bald Eagle
Is that really your nest?
The last time I saw that nest occupied
Last autumn
There was an osprey cleaning the fish out of her teeth
And now you are in there
With your mate
I've seen you soaring above the Warren River
Looking for breakfast
Ryan told me your nest had to be somewhere close
And I couldn't find it until Meta gave me a clue
I'm sorry that Big Brother flushed out your nest
But maybe I was looking right past it because I thought it belonged to another
The next time I see that osprey I will ask her
And see if I can get to the bottom
Of the riddle of who's nest is it anyway
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 5:36 PM UTC