Posts for June 27, 2020



The sands of time 
bring change 
and warnings for the future

Let this be a reminder
that they say
karma is a bitch. 


Perfect little boy

Autistic offspring
My little love kept me from
Writing on this trip

Yet his love is mine
I live to make him happy
Perfect little boy


It’s been two weeks without you.

I wrote several
poems during our stay
together. But I
never imagined having
to reread them
when you were gone.
Wishing so badly
to relive the little moments
I found worthy
of documenting.
Wanting so badly
to smack my
not much younger self
as I stay
of you patting my back
just one more time.


Breaking Routine

I should start taking my coffee black,
let its bitterness bite, sink caffeinated canines
deep into bleary-eyed morning haze,
upset the daily ritual of waking 
from recurring nightmares
and taking stock of my teeth. 



Sometimes a word is just begging to be used
But it rarely provides the context for you
I’ve added it to the proverbial checklist
Just after the dishes, and a shower
There’s never enough free time
I just need to be comfortable
Maybe after I fold my shirts
Far too many wrinkles
This tea needs more
Of what I can’t say
Why is it so hot
Yet I’m frigid?
I just can’t
Not yet
Sometimes a word finds you



as a kid, i remember running
after fireflies at dusk,
and these specks
of lightning were a brilliant
yellow, like the sun had fallen
to the Earth

but now, the sky is dark
and their little lights
are a dull green, a young
bud ready to be chased after,
but i fear this is only the beginning
of their fading color


Dreaming as Neptune

Beneath the saline waters
along the abyssal plains,
below where light descends,
that’s where my soul remains.

No coral reef gives anchor –
no algal bloom, disguise.
No guideposts dot the sea floor;
only dolphins cloud the sky.

Brittle stars wave & spin
before hippocamps parade –
a sea goat leads a motley pack
of fish-tailed beasts at play.

They pull & push, toss & turn,
disrupt the flow toward shore,
but waves will never break
this deep; it is still no more.


When This Is Over

When this is over, I promise to stretch my

arms out and embrace you, not just

your handsome parts, your pleasant mannerisms,

but even your shadows, even your scars,

whether there are clouds or sunshine.


When this is over, I promise to be

more patient with you, to talk more slowly,

to rise closer to dawn than dusk,

to be close to your heart and body

without crowding your mental space.


When this is over, I promise to caress

every inch of your body, whether you can

physically feel it or not. I promise to

be more of my own person

while still being with you.


At the viewing

I longed to straighten the hem of a lady’s skirt
make something right on this day

Trying to meet your eyes with mine
over all of the unfamilar heads
reading the cards on the flowers

thinking of my own father, my own mother
what I wished I had done differently

feeling your grief and nursing mine, too
wading through the small talk

for Andy



Turning off the neighbor’s tap
The water drips.
A minute depression
worn into the ground 
from repeated transgressions.

A metaphorical X
Signaling the exact spot
Where shame breeds 
In a child’s heart for
Just wanting a drink or a clean face. 

She looks in the mirror now
Both a world away and still right there
A woman still turning the knobs tight 
So as not to leave a mark in the porcelain bowl.
Where makeup stains look too much like dirt.