I think I was seventeen when I fi… ran across you, a compact young ma… that adjudicated a debate I was in… The second time was in the church… readying to go away for the weeken…

Grendel is throwing chairs around on the deck of the soon to be sink… Nobody really knows how Grendel g… and slipped himself in to replace… Nobody knew he’d be in charge when

My son’s cleaning up his room and I’m not really glad. He’s cleaning up his room and it’s raining clothes and crock… The washer’s running amok, the dis…

We had and ibis summer where the b… was picked at disconsolately by th… where the trees stood stoically in… in their drawing of water from dee… to store in their trunk, branches…

I live in a tiny village in my head; a tiny village with high walls where I am alone and talk to myself.

I am finding I am going home if I haven’t in some measure found the landing port that is in sight of my true and original self

I’d like to write a poem that’s a swimming pool, or even a wading pool would do. I’d have the sun shine on the firs… and Spring overwhelm the stanza.

Dearly beloved body that encases me, animates me, is me, as a matter of fact, thank you for being.

The smoking, crackling and burning of recent times, the destruction suggested by some to be the work of God in judgement, has been repl… now, with an answer to prayer, som…

It was the only swing in the park… as you swang on it, iron rasping angrily against iron. This one felt the edge, the seat vibrating slightly as you…

The Valley of the Shadow of Deat… travels through the streets of my… bringing in with it the refugees, the sinners and saints of flotsam. It’s filled with meth heads and ju…

We are running out of breath in th… to avoid our fate, avoid ourselves… make a new fate, make ourselves an… We are at the beachhead and the wa… are boiling in like playful, malic…