
“Summer Cottage”
Summer cottage
Back from the sea
Sand trails worn
Salty breeze
Past noon shadows
‘Round windows sneak
Lazy naps
Blissful peace
Sunset wonder
Horizon squeeze
Barefoot stroll
Soul at ease
"Don't put things off…it may be later than you think."
“Summer Cottage”
Summer cottage
Back from the sea
Sand trails worn
Salty breeze
Past noon shadows
‘Round windows sneak
Lazy naps
Blissful peace
Sunset wonder
Horizon squeeze
Barefoot stroll
Soul at ease
“Garbage Poems“
Garbage poems find a home
Pouring from my pen
Garbage poems, parts unknown
Not an if, but…when
Garbage lines unrefined
Jumping to the page
Garbage lines of my mind
Bring this poet shame
Garbage rhymes passing time
Poet’s praying priest
Garbage rhymes human crimes
Shepard’s saintly feast
Garbage art does depart
A poet’s metered mind
Garbage art full of heart
If the bard’s inclined
“Writing Distraction”
Environment skews focus
Elusive ideas remain away
Cannot quite grasp it
Looming large but ineffable
Which is a word I learned in high school
From a young woman named Megan
Which I cannot remember if she spelled her name with or without an “h”
Old dial tone phones with Boa Constrictor cords
Kept us tethered in the wonder of an inconsequential connection
Each of us pushed towards an idea of what we were supposed to be
In spite, of the discomforts of not knowing how
I do not know that we ever kissed or held hands
But—I am certain the seeds of my later courting elegance were sown during these largely small distractions
Flailing at life
Learning to dance
Whispering into the molded plastic receiver of an avocado colored phone
Hoping against hope that my deepest secrets and desires were heard
“Outstanding”
Sometimes it’s hard to stand out
Standing up for others that can’t
Backing down bullies’ braggadocio
There are people out to hurt others
Afraid to help others
And ignore their suffering
Enjoying the struggle
Yet—
Some still stand out against that
Hands outstretched
Elevating others
Those are the ones…
That stand out
For me, for you, for all
Standing for righteousness
Standing on
Standing up
Standing out
“Alone From Me”
I don’t know how to be
In a place—alone from me
Sustaining sanity
A misleading reverie
Impatience patiently
In a place—alone from me
Existential parity
Haunts this lucid waking dream
A calm collective calamity
In a place—alone from me
Isolation bursting seams
Old companions take their leave
A desert mirage fleetingly
In a place—alone from me
Unsightly vision still unseen
Alone…alone…alone from me
“Rain, Dear?”
Splatters drip abundant
Down sloped trolley exoskeletons
Wintering coats repel most water…
But, not all
Surgical masks punctuate the crowd
Riders on then off
The catastrophe of a wet commute
Hangs soggy on the brows of all
“The Pages Between”
Sometimes at the margins…
You discover the pages between
The ones to add
The ones to take away
The ones to cherish
The ones to loathe
Saving some for later
Staring some down
Pushing lead friction
Ability meets imagination
Right there—
The pages between
It is NOT a safe space
But…volatile, dynamic
An eruption of force
An unavoidable gravity
Nothing.
Consuming all
One finite point
Reaching critical masses
The pages between
Expanding ever outward
Until all is written on—
The pages between
“Mountains Misting”
Post dawn play awakens
Mountaintops pulling clouds down
Wisps of Wizard’s beards
Spied dancing among the tree line
Sun rays slicing through
Heralding the advance of day
Echoes of busy, travel valleyward
Surrounded by loud quiet
Peaceful energy vibrates
Nature reminds of its stature
Sunlight washes over peaks
Then tumbles down painting fauna
Jagged granite exposed
Playing hide and peak
Shadows finding the best spots
Tippity treetops tease vertigo
And a sky Godly blue reigns
Mountains misting distant points
Mark moments perceived in time
By the ferocious precious of human existence
What is a mountain misting to man?
What is a man to mountains misting?
“Counsel of the Crowd”
Boston Common jury pool
Sitting just to wait
Impaneled peers passing by
Hundreds of thousands of judgments
Rendered unconsciously
The horde wills itself
Despite small protests
Barrister bums profess innocence
Regardless of their guilt
Happy clams waiting to be plucked
Away from an unjust motion
To dismiss outright, doubt
Just is
Thumbs are on the scales
Just is
Only pretending to be blind
Just is
She’s in it for the handicapped placard
Just is
Courting the illusion
Writing to sit
Peers passing disaffected
Pooling common
Just is