the carrier of air

in his stable, balls of light
firebound-tied down tight
she lies down here, runs from night.

his lions wake- nip and claw
awoke, awalk, aramble tall.

he tells them when and when and where
she chariots also- the carrier of air.

outpacing others always underneath
wheelbound- outspun fleeting heat.

his sunball light/heavy between them stays
she tries to shake his seeing gaze-
fire lions live for praise.

Where Water Flows So We Go, Too

Where water goes,
so we go, too,
we flow from sky
to mountain
to rivulet through
this twisting,
winding landscape
of home and stone;
You, leading me;
Me, chasing you


A Stepfather Waits

He thinks of my son
as his own even though
my boy is 36 & mysteriously

estranged from the family, we don’t
even know why. Could it be
his blood dad never

really put him first
or that I swam
ahead of him treating

him like a fragile
duckling. He was my rare
bird, my wunderkind. Did I

squelch the piece
of him that needed to breathe, fly
or just plain relax? I imagine

him — my flawless son, my runaway,
my prodigal. I release
a handwritten message by way

of carrier pigeon. Until you return,
it reads. I am holding
a father for you.



Is the dance quite them,
spinning a different body
around a kitchen?
Did you successfully find
a still beating heart, without
to much saddness?
I know who she was
but she is all I know,
in every garden, I love you


The Squall

I saw an isolate, angry cloud 
swirling , and receiving patterns 

in the water below shouted
cry havoc and release the kraken,

a something Lovecraft when the warmth
above met the North Atlantic brack water—

black in the night.  True to form,
I sailed with a moon most grateful;

there were ice edges about me,
with hopes of a guitar to accompany me.

My fingers, though.  I heated them
over kerosene, and they remained

solid and fixed like a Polaris or a Sirius
with Orion declaring his witness.

I wouldn’t be out here looking for her,
weighing us down, weren’t I a sentimental

fuck.  It doesn’t get any better sweet one;
I see tide, the call of a blue eye twinkling,

the sunshine of blonde hair on the water,
the lie as deep as it goes with towers

10 years of octopi high.


Winter > Summer

One is filled with cozy night indoors,
Sipping hot drinks by a warm flickering fire,
The other is has night of relief,
Bathing in the cool air of the A/C,
Blessed by the blades of a fan,
One has snowball fights and beautiful icicles,
The other has beaches and painful burns,
One is calm and takes a slow pace,
The other is fast and full of noise,
Winter is free from disturbances,
Summer has bothersome insects,
So yes,
Winter > Summer


The Cards Don’t Lie

the best thing to do

in line with
the best thing
to do; 

there is
always a choice, and
it is

the only
thing you can do.


What do I do

My husband told me

so calmly
that he’s not in love anymore.
Our son is upstairs asleep 
What do I do now? 

Daddy not Father

had the same man over tonight
half flacid half aroused was he
the type of package you know
was to be envied in its heyday

last time he told me “call me daddy”
the same week my own father died
this time we didn’t even come at all
this time an uber came early, early

i put the knife back under the bed
turn off someone else’s bad sex playlist  
i bounce around my own house screaming 
i reach for the ceiling in his absence


Lost Boy

Tulips in the spring
lean toward the sun
try to reach you

Towhead challenging
fun, never behaved 
grew to rugged blond
Hollywood stature looks
then disappeared

Your Mother died thinking
someone had tossed
your body
into the Bay 
from the Bridge

Seemingly, you cared
not a bit
Your Mother
dying of cancer
mourned you

Troubled man
bright, talented,
disarmingly charming
clever, cunning
unable to remain 

with the rays of heat
light, sound

It is springtime once again
Lilac buds blossom 
still in your prime
you silently decide
determinedly accelerate 

Down, down, down 
rushing forward
into the great noble
receptive tree