Wednesday, November 25, 2015


It came to be
not suddenly
but oh so slowly
that no one noticed
life constructed
inside round heads
filled with cycles
as hands moved
on digital clocks
yet known
to be unreal
and eyes closed
and light switches
out there
sight unseen
stars moved
around the night sky
we slept
dreaming dreams
that meandered
like long country roads
in sunshine
and shade
tall oak trees
beside river runs
and beyond
grass green hills
soon to dissolve
as day breaks again
eyes open
in the cycles
of the

Wednesday, September 09, 2015


The day broke
and fingers spoke
the computer aglow
the site was there
for all who cared
a touchstone
to start each day
with memories
of truths
so long ago spoke
and still
kept alive
at the break
of each day.

Monday, August 24, 2015

The Notebook

He pulled the key from his pocket
to lock the door before leaving
but the key
no longer fit
no matter how hard he tried
the night was getting late
he departed
the door left unlocked
later it rained
then the clouds parted
the black sky
revealed stars
so many that even
a passing fox took notice
for an instant
and inside the house
memories filled the rooms
so much so
that even a moth took notice
before scared away by
a daddy longlegs
the night passed
days passed
years passed
then during one summer
a young boy discovered
the house
and discovered the door
and inside he found
filled with words
and drawings of stars
in the far room
a telescope
and outside
the wind picked up
for it was time
to leave
then after more
than a half century
an old man gazed again
at the notebook
with the drawings
of stars
and with pencil in hand
he slowly connected
the dots
and before morning
he discovered
his way
back home.

Saturday, June 06, 2015

Song of Life

I’ve seen the rocky landscape
of Mars
with those curious blue sunsets
and can only imagine
the silence
when outside my window
birds sing
and I wonder
can a billion stars
have not one more rock
that circles around
with songs
of life?

Wednesday, May 06, 2015


It was late
too late
but that was
only the beginning
as he sat
in the chair
on the porch
warm breeze
darkness fell
and he thought
of nothing
that he could
except that
he burst
into tears
while moths
fluttered about
the porch

Wednesday, February 04, 2015


The journey was about to begin
a final step
and then the forever unknown
where life is not
in vast space
filled with total silence
but for life
with noise
made sacred
by twisting and curling
and tight-stretched
that dwelled on a speck
of dust
from a star
by quiet
and he packed his bags
with all the noise he could gather
for the journey
into silence
would take

Thursday, November 06, 2014

Why do we care?

Why do we care?
But we do
we care for ourselves
and others
we give
we receive
while all around us
trees and rocks
care not
we weave
through their maze
of mountains
our playgrounds
that fill us with awe
so much so
that we share
with others
that care
sights and sounds
for we alone

Friday, October 31, 2014

Hidden Inside

Each day was a flurry of activity
so much so that at night
with head upon pillow
it was hard to focus
on blur that darkened
and sleep halted
the world
until the sun broke
the silence
and he began
snapping photographs
throughout the days
so that at night
he had proof
that trees and birds
and cats and dogs
and even children
were all that time
hidden inside
his life
of blur.

Thursday, October 09, 2014

Another Chance

Called a bitter old man
he couldn’t figure it out
why it was
when it could have been
with the forever
what if
when he passed
on the invitation
to act like them
as they all were
at that time
but he turned away
until one day
seemed exactly
like the next day
and sandy beaches
on cold winter mornings
mingled with
blazing hot days
on unnamed mountain trails
in so many lands
that for many nights
he tried to remember
the places and the times
but sleep and dreams
erased those moments
until the pleasant nurse
was overhead
calling him
a bitter old man
and those words he remembered
as he walked the sandy shores
this time with purpose
in his steps
and a desire
to act
like them.

Friday, September 12, 2014


The end
was not an instant
but a time
of countless instances
that tried
but could not
become whole.

The Blackboard

He began writing the novel
on a blackboard
each page was printed
with a stick of chalk
a page completed
then erased
to make room
for the next
as the story unfolded
one page at a time
as the past
without edits
leaving but

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Flowers and Weeds

As a kid
he picked flowers
and sometimes weeds
with no mother
or father
he started a library
collecting used books
and carrying them with him
as he moved from this house
to that
until an uncle
found space
for him and his books
while he finished high school
and later he worked odd jobs
here and there
until his knack for drawing
flowers and plants
landed him a job
illustrating for a company
that printed botany books
and much later
after marriage
and two children
they moved to
the countryside
where he collected
flowers and weeds
and drew them
like nobody else
and once a month
he took the train
to downtown Tokyo
and sold just enough
drawing and watercolors
to feed and clothe his family
for one more month
until his children were
old men that lived
and worked in Tokyo
and his wife fell ill
and so quickly
she was gone
and all by himself
he drew and painted
his flowers and weeds
and much later
when the two sons
were cleaning out the old
country house
and while packing
all the books
in cardboard boxes
they discovered
more flowers and weeds
between all the pages
of so many
unread books.

Thursday, August 07, 2014

Slowly at First

At first they were small letting goes
the empty space in the garage grew
slowly at first
then closets inside the house
emptied of old fashions
now great finds
in a thrift store
by someone still young
and still collecting
to fill
empty spaces.

Invisible Strings

The invisible strings
from the beginning of time
to each right now
of the living
and all the countless
last breaths
strings vanished
yet the death
of mother and father
did not break
the string
of sons and daughters
that are still connected
to the beginning
of time.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Purity of Purpose

He was a builder 
of all sorts of things 
but purity of purpose 
was always on his mind 
as he hammered verbs 
and nouns 
while sawing conjunctions 
in half 
building thoughts on paper 
with hands and fingers 
he screwed adjectives 
in place 
so that they would never dream 
of wandering 

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Porch Memories

Sometimes life
changes direction
and you find yourself
trudging against the wind
with but memories
of those sunny days
when the warm breeze
from behind
urged you forward
as if you needed
a notion
of all the things
to come.

Wednesday, July 09, 2014

The Salt of the Earth

We are left
when our wellspring
of words
run dry
yet our imagination
and our eyes
spill over
with tears
that remember
the salt
of the earth.

Wednesday, July 02, 2014

Fixing It

The messiness of life
and our urge to not
leave it be
but to ponder
to attempt to fix
the broken
to make whole

Monday, May 26, 2014

Memorial Day

He sat and watched
with others as some
tried to make do
with what they had
in the large room
the sun shining through
the open windows
on Memorial Day
at the nursing home
a few were brave enough
to speak up and tell their stories
but he remained silent
and wondered if any would know
that a B-25 was a Mitchell
and that he had once flown over
and not much later
over so many tiny islands
that he couldn't remember names
that he'd never known
but the island hopping
as they called the campaign
was always with him
as he remembers
for another day
that it was those down below
fighting on those jungle islands
the ones that survived
those were the ones
that earned the right
to remain silent.

Friday, May 09, 2014

Gathering on the Porch

With nothing to do
some sat in their chairs
others paced the length
of the porch
while the light breeze
cooled the noontime sun
words were few
but thoughts were many
some down to earth
others among the stars
a few were so abstract
that a stick of chalk
was used to describe
the invisible structure
of the universe
on the weathered planks
of the porch
as others came to see
how the sun warps
so that the Earth
moves around it
in circles.