there’s someone inside my body, who has (on more than one occasion) wept & from me, independently; & from my eyes, his own alien tears. & all this, upon a few events where I had just exited from some vivid dream.

I thought I might drop in for a bite. A frog or two have you here, my dear? SSSSurely, ssssomething to eat amid these rocks and boxessss! I taste it in the air, but where? May I play with your hair? Let’s just slither over…

Traditions inspire, bond families, generations creating memories a longing to return to a time, place of some significance or comfort those moments that shape us, our relationships For all the ritual and cookie-cutter nature to family traditions they never remain the same traditions, families change…

He looked out, across the ocean Beyond the crashing waves For long, silent minutes While the gulls cried around him The sun glinted in his blue eyes The day was nearly done Oranges, gold and crimson bled From broad bands of sky to sea But…

I remember you and your bustling vibrancy! Energy, like nothing else in the whole world. Creative consciousness wired in a hive mind. That’s you, New York, and I still love you!

A home of my own. It’s time for me to finally settle down. A house, a kitchen… is that too much to ask? A place that’s mine that no one else has. Can it ever exist? Can it ever be so? A home that I…

We laugh around the fire as its light flickers on all our lit faces. Beer, wine, vodka, peach whiskey, Sweet spiked, or bitter, Whatever the taste, it’s a lit crowd of raucous friends. He tells the same stories again and again – about the island…

Beyond the farthest meadow, In the center of a hill, There rests a quiet burrow Behind an ice flow, never still And in that ice-cold grotto, One can find – from time-to-time, A tiny pixie winnow While she bathes with wild thyme She sings a…

‘She’s away and westward bound Far above the clouds she’ll fly Where the mornin’ rain don’t fall And the sun always shines..’ – Gordon Lightfoot, Early Morning Rain Poems, songs about planes usually come in varietal shades of gone poets and lyricists see escape oh,…

The earth is like a blue bottle jelly fish a creature of many creatures floating in an ocean of cosmic gas. We hurtle through space at an incredible speed pushed by waves from an unknown source. And we each are part of the other. Singular,…