Category Archives: Poems

I had a shark dream last night. My Father, as he was back when I was the child in the dream was at the helm of the craft, more a pontoon raft with our outboard astern,loaded with relatives and many, … Continue reading →

The barn is quiet, though seldom silent. Sibilant breezes whisper greetings to each stall, loft, remenant hay stalk, just now, a flutter of wings, some wandering pigeon seeking roost. But, no mare, no jersy, no clucking chicken hears or cares … Continue reading →

At forty I found my Father. At forty I found my Father had for years been looking for a me he could only hope was more than he could see. I had given him only traces, hints of my existance … Continue reading →

When all he could do was wiggle, he,d wiggle, wiggle, and wiggle. Then he giddled, so he added giggle to wiggle and did both. Then, when he could, he would run, shout, play. giggle and wiggle. And play play play … Continue reading →

Someone is mowing his lawn. I am sitting here trying to be, but someone is mowing his lawn. The mechanical mumbling, the high pitched whine, the mowers drone, the eterenal interruption of solitude by cacophony continues, but , I am … Continue reading →

“Writing poetry is tough!” he said, as he sat on the grass of the emerald outfield under a turquoise sky with a cool, early spring breeze carassesing him. His Mother offering him lines and lines of gifts if he would … Continue reading →

Fuck you!” He said it to me! Me! of all people, Me! and what I am and what I represent; To him: adult authority, unsolicited rules, unrepresented controls. To me: the person to give him a beter life than he … Continue reading →

Are thinking: environment; save the world; up the machine; road tests… all the time. Are feeling: Oh Yes! Such fellings!: Sex? Now? Not now?; Touchdown!; Ask her?; Ask him?; Zits!! Oh God not Zits!!; all the time. Are hopeing: Yesterdays … Continue reading →

Don’t worry, my dear. You”re not ugly outside until you’re ugly inside.

Out behind the Ponderosa, around the corner from Burger King, behind the Sleep Inn parking lot adjectent to Route 17 South sits a little pond, a diamond drop surrounded by the concrete of Interstate 95, a dot on Americas moving … Continue reading →