Category Archives: Poems

I sit in my recliner, dozing off my daily swim and stretch at the club. Phone rings. My old college room mate, now FaceBook friend. Somehow, he’s developed the habit of starting conversations with “So,…” like he’s drawing his own … Continue reading →

How many times have my wife and I made our bed? Pulled and smoothed the cover sheet, fleece blanket and quilted spread, placed the five pillows just so… A mutually agreed-upon-co-ordinated ritual, fulfilling our need for both the straightening up … Continue reading →

The Devil, embarrassed by His initiation of and humanities glee in the well-learned perpetuation of Evil, decided to hang up his horns, like some aging quarterback hangs up his cleats. Ol’ Scratch, one day, just brushes the soot off his … Continue reading →

Since we are sentient creatures, (mostly), we are self-desctiptive. Barnes and Noble is stuffed with memoir, autobiography, ghosted biography… rows on rows of tomes, written by, or, for us, of us, to explain us to a public, who, (surprisingly) gives … Continue reading →

The poet is a gate-keeper who determines which womb-bound-poem is worth a birth. It’s a tricky job, choosing whether one should be born, at all, into a lifetime of mediocrity, flopping from the chute into a forgotten slot on some … Continue reading →

Poets are archaeologists of life. Down at the site, equipped with pen and paper for bristle brush and trowel, they extract sharp, shattered, scattered shards and calcified bone, fossils from our pasts, connecting us to a millennia of themes stretching … Continue reading →

As skin of my hands and wrists ages into the topography of crepe paper, I sadden as I approach the door, not so much for what it opens out to, (what is ahead is settled, karmic beyond my ken). Rather, … Continue reading →

Horatio: I loved him, of course. They make such a fuss about it, now. But what was not to love? Prince of a fellow, admirable in quality… A real piece of work. Certainly he could be, or not be, a … Continue reading →

Cheers! to all the supporting roles after the final scene: Lavinia, in her wacky distraction might have tossed the lot! So, thanks to the Writer for keeping her at her spot, up stage right, for two short beats prior to … Continue reading →

I enjoy doing my wife’s laundry whenever I do mine. I like it when the washer stops spinning so I can fling her silky, warm, wet undies into the dryer. And when everything is dry… (ever notice how likes attract … Continue reading →