Asleep in sway

Refuse in the oceans. God's things caught in its mire. In a come-lately penance, I think of small atonements, futile fixes. If a poem had power, had sway, or could be born of a prophet, sleep might come more easily. Still, I count the sheep of days, the fish in a river's flow... *** image:... Continue Reading →


Endings today- A small thing, as if hit, flails its last on the hot roadway, its doubtful heart and kicking legs wanting only to run, to run. And I have done murder, my mower surprising some bees and fledgling frogs who wanted only sweetness and shade. This grass will grow now. *** image credit:

In memory

Were I to gatherthe rarest of woods,matchsticks in multitude,and vintage amber lac,I would set to the building of that Strad,its secrets laid bare by an angel. And in its voice would be your intonations.And in its resonance, the beat of your living heart. *** Photo: Eastman Strings


At some days' end, I feel as if I have stepped my last- propping up this frame, these unpadded shoulders, boned as a scarecrow. Dithering with the primal thoughts of a child. Open-armed, palms in supplication. I bow down, I do. Image:

In those days

In those daysthere were bedsheet flags,wooden swords,bobby pin rifles.Our breathless legions in shabby Keds.Shoe boxes full of bubblegum cards,fluffy-edged from brick wall flingings.Tennis balls with fluff long gone,and pockets full of marble prizes. And, in tumbling years,I knew a kid who sniffed acetone.He had no Dad, but had a gun.Called his mum a crazy bastard,and... Continue Reading →

Two walls

One's been too many years in the building, and what it shields may have lost its worth. The other, I hold onto, as I walk, in secret regret.

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