Someone’s Mother
1 In the early moonrise a few etched peaks stand out against the backdrop of the days final shrug …
Monthly Archives: March 2014
The End
They are gone, your friends too. Now on this coldest of nights you will turn in your sleep, dream back …
Jean-Paul Sartre Was Right
A stranger has been following me. I see him every morning standing at the back of the bus. He waits …
The Weight
The chosen few can pass this night of gales floating in the intimacy of friends and fine ideas. While we …
Summer’s End
Our memories, once so sharp and short, now litter the landscape with the bones of our hopes. It is …
The Wind
The shooshing of the wind late at night, in darkness after moonset, is not a civilized sound. I sit under the maple, …
Off Road Crisis
I am in Virginia, it is spring, dandelions blanket the hill, unlike home where winters gray pall still holds sway. …
A Lover’s Quarrel with the World*
It is too early to take a nap. His daily trip to town put off for now, he must …
The Web
This morning where beam meets post on the porch the barn spider has spun his concentric polygons, a trap wired …
One Winter Morning
It occurs to him the seasons left are now countable, a comprehendible number. Fifty eight winters have passed. This one …
Poetry on the run 