Tuesday, February 09, 2016

parked here

for i. s.

parked here, i sit wondering of you
two weeks have passed and no word
since you said you’re calling 911.

parked here, sweet crepes and butter
were our morning delight in franz's
since days we could claim youth.

don’t let this be that kind of poem
not yet, not in this way;
so far, those memories
so far, the path still lies ahead.

parked here, i hold a glacier’s tears
millennia have passed, patience, they say
i won’t count future lives until we meet again.

don’t let this be those kinds of words;
people murmur in fear of unknowns
since days we stared at stars.

8 february 2016

Sunday, August 23, 2015

mother and i

mother and i,
she tried to be a grower but
didn’t get grandfather’s green thumb;
i did.

i am the grower and
i am the arranger, too;
that is from my father.

i arrange flowers that are words;
words that are images;
it was his gift.

my aunt says it’s apparent.
she says, i’m my father’s son;
my gilded tongue, sometimes forky;
the softened charm that is rarely refused.

not that i share nothing with mother.
mother and i, we can be alike.
we can be removed;

hidden behind the leaves and roses
among the thorns,
too threatening for curious fingers.

i can, not show the softened heart,
keep my shirt sleeves unrolled.
mother and i; we have only one sun
but very different worlds.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015


(after Christine Boyka Kluge’s Lamb)

i read a poem about a lamb across the valley,
lost and distant and there was mention
of smoke separating the animal from its viewer.

as i think of it now i imagine myself reflected
in the yellowed worn page of the book;
well handled, well read and perhaps well loved.

i see myself as the lamb turned upside down
on the edge of the paper as if a world inverse
of this more complicated reality outside

of its frail edges. i see myself removed
from myself and wonder of the smoke mentioned
and whether it was me who started the fire;
the fire that would eventually eat up the page

into hungry embers and when the lamb

in the image had burned, would i disappear? 


Strangers walking by
Outside the open window
So far from your view

Saturday, August 08, 2015


All in order now
A crimson sky above me
Another dawn smile


Line of cypresses
Gossamer memories fading
So far away now

August 4, 2015

Sunday, August 02, 2015

His father's son
With senses like Waterford
And red ruby heart


No summer kisses
Beneath the Emerald Isle
She waits patiently


Autumn almost here
So distant a time since last
So distant the space


August 2, 2015

Wednesday, July 01, 2015

Thursday, June 25, 2015


Tendrils of steam
Bitter on the palate, sweet
Two faces, green tea

Finch on house, fence
Fencing bravely with song
Protecting my heart

Weeping is willow
Washing the faint sorrow
Being across the sea