Monthly Archives: August 2016

I lost a poem last night. I thought of it in bed and wrote it in my head. But sleeping curled in spoons around my loving lady is not the way to recall unwritten poetry. So, by morning, the poem … Continue reading →

When you go, there will be crying by those who hear of it. But you, already winged will whisper in each mourners ear, “Why are you standing there in tears? Go on and do what you are meant to! I … Continue reading →

Driving, the Shawangunks ahead, the Hudson behind. A quiet summer morning drive on a tar paved road, black and cracked, edged by Her paint brush strokes, a long stretch of chicory, buttercup, lupine and Queen Annes lace keeps me on … Continue reading →

The ox fell into the well. What it was doing dancing on the stone walls of the oasis is no concern to me. That he might not have is no concern to me. But the possibility is essential because it … Continue reading →