Category Archives: Poems

The seedling grows in her parents droppings. The parent dies encircled in her saplings roots. The decay bleeding down into soil is blood seeping up into birth. It is this natural proximity to past generations journey we miss. How many … Continue reading →

I watched as an late autumn, late afternoon breeze seduced a leaf from her branch. Gently, ever so gently, it wove her a path through falls golden light, laid her softly, ever so softly among all the leaves fallen before. … Continue reading →

The woods beyond my backyard garden are not the forest primeval, rather second growth, rising from old pasture and apple orchard, boundried by stone walls, crossed by old roads, long unused. Maples grow where wagons rolled. Old round mounds, stone … Continue reading →

Beware the dead branch buried in fallen leaves. It can grab you from behind, trip you as you travel, change your meloncoly reverie to crashing catastrophy. No greater mishap for the livin’ than, by the dead, be trippin’.

the dragonfly is trapped in class, he can’t fly through the windows glass. he makes a wild,scary noise exciting all the girls and boys. if i could find the words to say to jolt my students in a similar way, … Continue reading →

” What are those blinking lights? and who put this wall here where I always cross this road???” That said as death came out of the dark night disguised as a bright white light, rendering all questions superfluous. The trouble … Continue reading →

is far from laughing when he chases his fellow flockers from the pizza bones in the parking lot by the boardwalk. “SHARE? SHARE? HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! NNEEVVEERR!!!!!

Jesus was an otter, teaching ants to dance. It’s a two thousand year old saddness that there are less otters than ants. Otters can dance. Ants can’t. I’d rather be an otter than an ant. Otters wear dance pants. Ants, … Continue reading →

Is not the least embarassed as he screaches his victory around the flock. “Fish! Flesh! See me! See me!” Then, the flock flocks after him: “Angry! Hungry! Gimmee! Gimmee!” Until the silver minnow sinks beneath the surf. But no one … Continue reading →

I wish you were a Polynesian poppy, polinated by a bee. The only stipulation: that the bee must be me!