The Poet’s Island Produce In island solitude the poet waits for inspiration like her backyard fig tree waits for rain, especially during a summertime drought. She knows that insight, that small ripe fruit from trees, is often tough to produce, especially during late lazy August….

  Swallowtail Encounter   As I drove along, I spot her Floating, yellow and black spotted wings spread apart, riding the soft breeze until she rests for a moment among roadside blooms. One moment, then frantic flitting from flower to flower wings pull and push…

The Alley We remember well the white concrete urban driveway we called “The Alley” with pairs of tall cedar telephone poles with thick black wires strewn across two parallel blocks of two-story row homes. We boys wore our high-top Keds and Chuck Taylors proudly; we…

Quite a week it’s been, wars and rumors of wars; lying, sniveling politicians. Like my mother used to say I want to shake them until their eye-teeth rattle.   Quite a week it’s been. Heart monitors, EKGs, ultrasounds. I want to take off all my…

Gumbo I like my gumbo chickened not pigged not alligatored not shrimped: not what-evered I like my gumbo chickened morninged nooned or nighted: when-evered I like my gumbo chickened stewed not fried or poached not sautéed or barbecued: not how-evered I like my gumbo chickened…

Industrious Watching black and white films of the building of great monuments and bridges, structures that have survived twice my lifetime or more, I marvel at the pace, the rhythm, energy, and movement in sync with so many lives, akin to mass bird or swallowtail…

The Sand Surfers Little boys and girls wear slick black wet suits as they practice surfing on soggy sand. With arms outstretched, they pretend to balance themselves on un-waxed surfboards, as parents dutifully watch them from beneath their yellow beach umbrellas. Older children who ocean…

  When we are very young We dance, we sway Instinctively We watch others But we swirl on our own Letting the music take us and we take the music   In youth we dance in circles Laughing Alcohol, the sensuality, the joy consumes us…

i know you may not want to think it true but we know not what someone’s going through did he not know how much we all did care? our helplessness fuels our grief ~ such despair i fight tears each day at the weirdest times…

Sharing Secrets Is it ever wise to relive a behavior a mistake a sin and share it with a lover? Releasing a foul dragon one’s kept hidden in a mountain cave for years seems unwise. It may well burn and devour him.