Category Archives: Poems

If you own the technology and are willing to risk resisting arrest, or, if you have the imagination, go stand in the middle of Wall Street, maybe near the Bull. Dig a Mitchnerian shaft straight down to discover, layer over … Continue reading →

We’ve migrated South, now. Our new home is unpacked and placed. 100 some bins and boxes filled with paintings, books, pottery, kitchenware, winter fleece, summer linen, photos, tools, kites, journals… all the accumulated stuff of living 70 years in an … Continue reading →

Lately, in dreamland, I’m living in a rich dowagers wisteria vine and spanish moss draped live-oak shaded mansion, dilapidating down through three centuries of mist and mold. Her husband? All that’s left of him is the scent of his cigars … Continue reading →

I felt light would never come. Then came morning with the Son.

We are of the Spirit, at times. We believe. We worship. We confess. We wait for Heaven with bated breaths. And we are of the Flesh, at times. We devour. We quench our blood thirst. We sait our lusts. We … Continue reading →

Here’s to you for being a material girl in a material world! But where are you, Louise, now that you’ve passed through the wall between soil and spirit, into a dimension where abide leaf hidden fairy, the unconsumed burning bush, … Continue reading →

He was eighty-two. I was twenty-nine. Marjorie and I were buying our first and, as it turned out, our only home these last 53 years. The old man and his wife had owned the place since Genesis, Chapter 1. I … Continue reading →

We do laude the songbirds of early spring, their melodies startling us like a symphony in the woods. Other birds have wintered here with us, the chickadee, the nuthatch, the titmouse, a few daring cardinals, red splashes on white snow. … Continue reading →

What if I’d decided to take Buddy for a hike, before I’d left? What if you’d misplaced your car key? What if you hadn’t been there when I arrived? What if I hadn’t tumbled into your eyes? What if you … Continue reading →

My memories are old songs, with a few forgotten words, long silent pauses. Trying to sing them creates unanswered questions: Who said that? What? Where did that happen? When? How? And the worst: Why? But the melodies, foggy, though remembered, … Continue reading →