Deciduous (#326)

It is easy to love a tree in Spring
Budded and budding
Showing you colors you are expecting
Or in Summer
All shade and soft smells
Or in Autumn
When they age with dignity
With leaves dancing
Like couples who learned to waltz
50 years ago.

But in Winter?
Can you love a tree in Winter?
Overly thin
And awkwardly standing
Showing their skeleton
Like a hospital patient
With their gown unintentionally open.

The weather is cold.

The breath I have remaining
Fogs out of my mouth.

Will you love me
In this unforgiving Winter?

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Posted by on September 17, 2018 in new poetry


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Our First Night (#325)

You woke me from a dream about you
To tell me you had been dreaming about me

You would think this would make us soulmates
Or something
Already connected through the ether
Of the subconscious

And maybe we are

But I had been dreaming
Of you trapped in a black room

And you had been dreaming
Of my body separated
Into jagged pieces

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Posted by on September 14, 2018 in new poetry


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Tidal Beats (#324)

I want to write a poem
to the beat
of the
the BOOM
of the waves dying on sand
and somehow
tie it to birth
and death
and maybe God’s breath
waves are so consistent
that the world
keeps moving
no matter how many times
I tell it to STOP

and here’s another wave

my voice reading this is too loud
endowed with my human pride
but the tide will keep pulling me down
pulling the sand from around my feet
back into the ocean
so any notion I have
of my superior humanness
is lost in a whitewater wash
of those whispers


and, yes,
maybe this is about birth
and death
and even God’s breath
and life moving beyond
my yells of help
and how the cycle continues
and I’m less than that whisper

I know I need to stop writing this
speaking this
needing this to give me
a sense of who I am
or how I fit
it’s time for me to quit
this self-pitying
philosophizing on what the
means to me and everybody else
and just
the waves


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Posted by on February 15, 2018 in new poetry


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6th Anniversary (#323)

I graduated summa cum laude
With a major in Sorry
And a minor in Whatever You Say

You’ve asked me to go back to night school
I didn’t learn the material
Well enough

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Posted by on February 13, 2018 in new poetry


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Feathers (#322)

A storm of yesterday
Eyes closed because it is dark
Feeling safest in the corners

Feathers rip the sky
Leftover wishes
That turned into pain

The screaming is internal

Where’s the sunlight?
When will dawn come
And the day forgive?

Eyes still closed

The feathers pound on the windows
Yesterday’s rain

Probably tomorrow’s rain

The corners aren’t safe anymore

Open eyes
Open windows

Let storm in

Feathers on skin

The screaming is internal

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Posted by on February 7, 2018 in new poetry


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Intelligent Kids (#321)

He turned to her
on that Friday
right before the end of lunch.

“You’re the Mary of our group.”

She paused.

Essence of patience and peace?”

No response.

Sign of redemption?
Showing us how we are all good inside
and we can overcome our mistakes?”

He closed his backpack.


And walked to class.

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Posted by on February 6, 2018 in new poetry


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gargoyle (#320)

I will wait here for you
a statue
a gargoyle
cast in iron or stone
part of any architecture I can find.
This is how I will survive
all of the storms
I know
have destroyed your other loves.
I will watch
as days and nights chase each other
as water of unwanted devotion
falls away from your turned-away body.

I will be patient.
I will be iron or stone.
You will always know where I am.
I’m the quiet, still thing
in the corner of your life.
Waiting for you.

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Posted by on February 1, 2018 in new poetry


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