Category: Poetry

I hope the human world gets better but not at the expense of human greatness. I hope peace and happiness spring up like flowers from the seeds of democracy being sewn in the Middle East, but not at the expense of culture. I hope cynicism doesn’t take over America, but…

There is a legend of a man and a woman who lived long ago. The man loved the woman more than anything and she loved him in return. He was a calm man, someone who knew the purpose of it all, who could see the wide view. But his love…

Last night, I walked past my bookshelf and glanced at one of the two spiral-bound notebooks leaning against the oversized Dan Eldon book. One notebook has a collection of terrible charcoal drawings I made in a period when I imagined I could practice my way into talented charcoal artistry. The…

I am an impostor standing alone secretly regarding the twenty-five kinds of gourmet waters available for purchase at prices similar to the wine. Ironically the granola-lined asphalt of the parking lot welcomed in my turbocharged Subaru with the ultra high performance tires, three inch exhaust and carbon fiber wing as…

So you know what I’m really good at? Avoiding soap to foot impacts in the shower. I’m like the Smith from the Matrix movies who could avoid all those bullets. I think it’s a very useful skill to have. Now if only I could work on not dropping the soap….

I may not have all of the answers, but I know what I know. I’ve drunk lessons from the fire hose, most of it getting away from me. I’ve filled my cup with what I know, and periodically pour it most of the way out onto the pavement like tears…

The title of this blog came to me wrapped in hard cookie. A crack later and the fortune spilled into my hand like hot mercury. Such wisdom nowadays comes to me at the end of a meal from someone who probably barely speaks the language they are writing in. I…

“O, how this spring of love resemblethThe uncertain glory of an April day;Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,And by and by a cloud takes all away.” Spakespeare speaks here of control. Once Art became involved with money, like Life, it grossly spun out of control. As a…

I was walking on a city street that looked like it had been frosted with gray ash. All of the businesses were closed, their windows unwashed. I was looking toward a crowd of people who were heading in the same direction past me, homeless refugees pushing shopping carts full of…

And with tears and longing, a forgotten child cringes, small hands clutching at the unpurchased toy, the life preserver and the reason and the hated reason, love at first sight, pretending not to notice the fading nearness of mothers skirt, vague fantasies projecting into mysteries. And all the world collapses…