Hunting is dangerous, Finding is the right word. While looking for the next one We keep scrolling.   Windows are opened, Shelves are shuffled again And we keep scrolling.   Take a walk outside Look at the trees Smile at squirrels Play with a cat…

My poem wears a warm cloak of anonymity. It has green eyes and red hair. It eats like an omnivore evolved from the T-Rex and the Brontosaurus. It dreams about children and schedules and love and violence. It drives a modest car. It lives in…

The plastic rat tacked to the wall The crystals hanging from the door hinge. The people stepping outside in lawful smoking compliance. The jaded bartenders ignoring your drink request. The aftermath of a great show. Musicians past their prime but still magical. Low ceilings and…

Let me finish and we will, we will get some breakfast. *slurp on my coffee cup* Let me go and you work, you work I’ll get food. *slurp on my coffee cup* What’s your favorite? and you like, you like cherry, coconut, chocolate bavarian *slurp…

It’s so early in the morning or so very late at night depending on perspective. You offer to make coffee as I feverishly write and post write and post write and post. I lean over to kiss your shoulder to thank you profusely to love…

Only once every 3,600 years the black planet passes through our solar system. Reading stories, theories, postulations, scientific papers, crack pot conspiracies disaster planning. Will it pass unnoticed or will we experience worldwide extinction as dinosaurs. Will we plan gather, hoard stockpile provisions or love…

Secrets will eat you like worms in the watermelon oozing juice on the countertops. Secrets will harm you like kites flying into power lines burning up at the end of your rope. Secrets will stun you like a head on auto collision leaving only blood…

Now, you walk away all smug superiority and I am relieved that the charade is over. Now, you escape from the city and I can return to my throne of art galleries & local restaurants in peace. Now, you retreat to silence and I chatter…

You turn your head sorrow masculine cliches fear. You catch your breath shame masculine pride tears. What? What is it? The joy is leaking from my heart.

It’s the little things that make up my personality. All those tiny tidbits that cling to my brain like cereal-box stickers on bedroom windows The telephone number from my childhood home the patterns of the turning dial on the single rotary phone at the desk…