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Been here too long seen way too much my empathy has decayed piles of rubble-pity hope was a chrysalis birthed ugly butterflies that now flit from dead plant to dead plant Paradox eternal doing right things for eventual wrong reasons appeasing, ignoring those doing wrong things for right reasons conundrums abound doing good where ‘good’… Read more
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Sawed-off fence picket turned sideways points eastward, sort of you are – we are – ‘that way’ if signs are to be believed The sign unaware you have been gone thirty years, plus your house,over twenty anyone driving north on Crow Wing County Highway Three would believe they could turn, still find you I know… Read more
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Poets have often likened love to roses summer days pastoral scenes other sundry phenomena saccharine sells in toto love is not candy roses sweet imagery clichés violin soundtracks I, having lived love see more esoteric practicality from, for the heart love is tartar sauce. It looks like hell you have no idea what is really… Read more
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Historically considering myself the Scarecrow middle-age, circumstance, time have me contemplating fates identifying a more Tin Man persona seeking oil for locked up joints moving clunkily, at times joyously graceful, others grudgingly accepting assistance from my companions – friends who humor my myriad compunctions to stay out in the rain eschewing consequences for the sheer… Read more
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Endings, beginnings reboots declining to resolve to do things better? more? less? just because. Finding myself in select company pragmatism not considered a virtue when calendars flip solemnity, tradition of fresh twelve invoked by most still, I demure idealism has its place the reality in transition December to January is more dog-earing key pages less… Read more
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‘…A flute of champagne contains one million bubbles.’ Toasting a new year – fresh starts beginnings, endings, transitions – see each bubble as a moment each individually tantalizing, collectively rising rapidly, quickly dissipating Gone short-lived effervescence sweet anticipation swiftly departed memorable Savor each bubble – the tingling of remembrance tickle of anticipation moments reveled in… Read more
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There is no Hemingwayesque romance to writing by the artificial glow of heart monitors nothing poetic in tapping out words on a phone while strapped to IVs typing encumbered by ET reminiscent clunky, red-tipped oxygen monitor But, as a poet you do what you gotta do as instinct kicks in fight-or-flight, primal self-defense by an… Read more
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Small, sporadically mowed rural-church cemetery familial in feel generations grouped eternally spontaneous, asymmetrical layout seems unforced, movingly casual in its nostalgia a rainy, gray day along narrow township gravel road cars parked, haphazardly We buried an old soldier. local VFW could only muster honor guard of three men bent, trembling, purposeful fingers wrinkled khaki, faces,… Read more
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Living now in a place where, in autumn most leaves stay put clinging to their branches without pretense never having the decency to abandon their vibrant green for appropriate, earthy hues A few adhere to my more familiar, season-bound tradition, true natural order small in numbers generally unnoticed It takes keen effort to scrounge enough of… Read more
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summer comes to a close autumnal breezes waft rustling memories of those days when the close of summer had more definitive endings sun-drenched days of youthful frolic, innocent play, done swimming, playing with frogs in holes dug on sandy beaches at grandparent’s homes; ‘the lake’ summer Xanadus of childhood one year, scenic backdrops for advancing… Read more
Ponderable polemics, poetic 