Uncategorized
-
My mom found the dead chipmunk I had brought home from the lake. It was the end of the summer I was ten; the stripe-tailed rodent had come home at peace in a blue and black JC Penney shoebox I said contained ‘stuff.’ He sure looked stuffed. A car – or maybe Ivar’s Jeep – Read more
-
Looking in the mirror I see the faces of a lifetime in midstream sometimes it’s a group photo – staged formality that doesn’t fit there are candid shot mornings and wide-angle shots that distort while others crowd everyone together but not everybody fits in the frame but the picture gets taken anyway. Looking in the Read more
-
My mistress is verisimilitude a pliant robust and imminently sensual lover. Her knowledge of love,extensive, welll used on the likes of me and I have no complaints of how she treats me nor she of I. We talk we love, share passions that can only be shared by kindred souls who meet only on the Read more
-
Reading the patina-seasoned bronze postcard at my feet stokes no inner desire of mine to travel Details are scarce; dates, no places. This is premium vacation time, a long time coming traveling solo; no timeshares, no all-inclusive-cruise – hostel or hostile? No clue, just reading the postcard No routine platitudes, clichés; ‘having wonderful time’ ‘wish Read more
-
A poet friend goes to the piney north woods only after stopping by the local hardware store where he picks up paint-chip cards. Holding them up to whatever thing of nature he is writing about,he then aspires to be Crayola literate in his effortless verse. Lying in those very same north woods, gazing at a Read more
-
It was the day the circus came to town we went and you made a small joke about the contorting monkeys wishing I was as limber, simianly creative. My chuckling retort comparing you – favorably, I thought – to the barking seal was a ball dropped. I could see your point about dogs jumping through Read more
-
I have never danced with the devil. We have, however, chatted amiably around the punchbowl a time or two Read more
-
(for Ron H.) A friend of mine – fellow poet – likes Bukowski while I much prefer Frost he disdains Ferlinghetti can’t understand why I don’t says Dickinson has no beat we share a fondness for Ginsburg’s rants, Stein and Plath, part ways on Whitman – my cure for insomnia, his touchstone in grass Over Read more
-
He was a shaman always clad in sacramental wool plaid shirt, dirty cap there are no mountaintops in Minnesota’s northwoods Enlightenment here comes from atop decaying tree stump aside rustic leaf and pine needle carpeted trails cutting through towering pines, birch, oak you stop, sit for a spell solemnity in this place dictated with wry Read more
Ponderable polemics, poetic 