Saturday, April 19, 2014


Blaring chambers of
chalky waves of
balmy cues of

enter a delay of
wavering wills of
calming leers of

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Desk Drawer

A reputation above all others
kept frankly in the envelope
within the desk drawer
beneath bills,
and letters
Becomes an irreliable
source of conflict

Tuesday, November 13, 2012


We often toss them into the water as we linger on edges of fountains for too long. We drown them and expect they will sprout into something more than what is worth tossing away. There, they choke as we peer down. Strange we never reach in and scrape them up to buy cake or some means to accomplish what we live for. Rather, we turn to Mother's pocket for a hopeful nudge at something to be proud of. Here, we toss in the cake or the means to achieve what we should be living for, in with the other wasted cents and sense. Shortly after, we walk over to buy cake but never the means to begin what we live for.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Words of Michelangelo

Noting intellect, or lack 
of such a notion 
in our humanity, here 
I have chosen to portray
the intellect 
so nearly exchanged 
between God and Adam.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Sleep's Eve

A plump Red,
born from blossoms
and bulging by sun-scorch,
now sags from singed
rusty leaves and slither-hymns
of trees on the Eve of
snow-graves and sleep.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012


Soon is an aloof.
Further, too, is aloof.
Clutching scales put all
open in dash
in regard.
of damaged, of
of sole strange;
all through wavers
Aloof is a further
too tolerant.

Sunday, October 7, 2012


i am                                            in my head
shaping my eyes to greed         i drop my breath
and obviously                            i am
not                                             the only one who cannot breathe
completely                                 to save myself
in vain

Wednesday, October 3, 2012


An abrupt silence
reached across the windowsill
and flew off
like frightened starlings,
foreboding words
trembling limply in my hand.

--A Found Poem with elements 
from Chaim Potok's In the Beginning

Sunday, September 23, 2012


Remember that trick
when magicians tear cloths from tables, 
Only startling those crystal cups
and not screaming them to the ground?

It is nothing like that trick
Because doctors severed and tore
after startled questions,
And he no longer stands.