Saturday, January 2, 2021

 Cutting like a knife

All the fleshly deceptions

The corpulent lies

The weighty baggage of the 

False

Cutting like a knife

To the skin and bones

Of truth 

Monday, November 23, 2020

Fate is hindsight

But is there proof

The doors were locked

When you simply neglected to open

The right one?

Everything that happens

Seems necessary working backward:

Your lover’s rejection, the career that sputtered,

The dreams scattered, that calamitous fall—

Or was a fall intended as the one we are told

Produced a glorious result?

Happenstance and necessity

Chance and destiny

Regardless, we are moved through this life

Through chaos or meaning—

Acceptance and reflection is all

Monday, November 16, 2020

 The dissolution —

That music hath a dying fall

From the first tremulous note—

It is a grave matter to enter this world

Forcing recognition of the mortal terror

Seizing at the breaking of innocence

A silent shout that persists

But grows tired and almost familiar 

With a crescendo like a dying fall

That passes for acceptance

Falling from the start

Friday, October 23, 2020

Where the mind goes

Memory goes

Down avenues, streets, 

And narrow corridors

Leading to unlocked doors,

Rooms with all the lights left on 

Wednesday, May 20, 2020

Perchance the birds
Know in their solidarity
When to scatter, when to stay.
A human hand can make them flee
Until the seed offered by that hand
Entices their wary return.
Who is friend, who is foe
Not always simple —
Ask the birds
Perchance they know.

Wednesday, March 18, 2020


If a meteor should rend our spinning earth 
In twain, there is no ground for belief
That the act was done to stop all human birth
Or if a tornado gathers all its force
To uproot all houses, all children, without relief
No one dare claim a purposeful course.
What then of a contagion spread 
With untold numbers of sick and dead?
Is there a benefit in seeking blame
Unless an act of horrific shame?
A virus, though a deadly thing,
Has no thought of the harm it brings—
A virus knows no one’s name.

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Tadzio


Where dreams emerge like ripples
In a lapping lagoon
You are surprised, beguiled
By beauty unexpected
Long locks shining from sunlight
A face turned to the warm sun
A delicate gesture
A laugh with hair tossed
Your aging body drawn to
The shimmering dream