Posts for June 18, 2021


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



Three in the Morning

standing in a dimly lit kitchen
with clean counters gleaming
the window plants bowed heavy 
with fully hydrated dark green leaves
a street light a distance down the road
creates a pale cirlce of pavement

and there I can hear the echoes of each
moment at this point year after year
extending backwards through time
all those years of pain, 
loathing and dread and fear
wrapped in overheated computer processors 
empty cans
crying children
family and those that I loved
screaming into the night 
at god
or at me

but this silence
standing in my underwear
my god
it’s all behind me



I find my first baby, Kitty, on eBay.
Upon searching I discover
her true name,
Pussy Cat,
made by Madame Alexander, 1965

I was disturbed to hear 
Mom say she probably threw her out,
having suffered a bad haircut,
torn stuffing, chewed toes

I mourn her loss

Seeing her would make me so happy.
Like the day cleaning my parents attic,
my kissing doll appears among old clothing,
naked, with stained face and sticking up hair.

Holding her, oh the wholeness!
Squeezing her belly to get the kiss face
pure joy!

There is Pussy Cat waiting online,
plastic baby legs having greened.
I decide against it,
too much a reminder of sad things.



the crowd was getting rowdy when we reached the stage
and I felt him pressed behind me trying to keep me from the crush
of the fans who fist-punched the air with the chorus
in the spray of the lead singer’s spit suspended in the lights
then his hand on my waist pushed me sideways so the elbow
of that frat boy in the mosh surging near us would miss my cheek
my feet sticking to the floor crunchy with the plastic of forgotten beers
outside again on the sidewalk he pressed me against a streetlight
stapled full of flyers for a roller derby to kiss me in its spotlight 
but we couldn’t stop laughing and my ears were still ringing
and the bass kept pounding in my chest



I tinker ’round poetry town
this time once a year
I tinker here, I tinker there
I rarely come back
’til it’s this time next year


The Long Days

There’s something about long days

And long work shifts

Or running around and never taking a break

Yes, it’s exhausting but also empowering

That we can handle what we can

And that we succeed most of the time

Embrace the long days

They won’t last forever


Patterns Are for Quilts

A Happy Days baby with blue eyes and ringlets
skips childhood
charges his drunkard father
protects his mother

The hits keep coming
The pattern re-emerges

With graying hair and tired blues
he protects himself 
behind great walls of isolation and self-medication

Hope says there can still be happy days
Scraps stitched together make something new


she is a mother, but she is not mine

once a year i come under her grasp
it is gentle, sweet, kind like my mother’s lap
she sings me into my well-resting sleep 
fillng my head with dreams that i lack

i wake one morning knowing that the day will be my last
and that the serenity i felt in her arms has now passed
today she seemed angry that her time had elapsed 
and i lie awake dreaming of days out of my grasp

as the view changes outside once more
and i drift away from her sands and her shore
i wonder what it could be like if i were adored
and cherished like she has me forevermore


A writer’s life

get up early
drink coffee
eat a pastry

write on your break
skip the coffee
watch the clock

write during lunch
drink a nutritional shake
eat an apple

write through dinner
drink juice
eat a sandwich

stay up late
drink coffee
eat chocolate

finish the book