morning coffee break

gray sky
toast and eggs
with a side of chickadees
sitting in the gutters
telling jokes


monsters under the bed

my brother says
I over-analyze
that people are simple
blood and ache
and want
the birds still sing
to one another
we are merely
listening in

are we allegory
are we poem
are we become
the monster we despised
when we were kids
under the bed
dogging us
saying hey man
when you gonna

Monday Random: Journal

Flag reflection

  • Like most days off, I woke up early and he slept late. I coffee’d and breakfast’d and tidied up, watched a few videos on YouTube, and made online backgammon moves
  • The sparrow comes back to the deck and calls out, over and over. Ruffles feathers and grooms himself, calling out again. Flies away and comes back several times
  • He rises and has tea and I am thinking about going back to sleep, but I don’t. He breakfasts on his own while I read
  • Continue reading “Monday Random: Journal”

(am I) Windswept

Have I written too much
about about the birds and trees–
do you doubt my sincerity
when I talk about the weather–
you and your calm, and
me on the edge
of coming to life

april 30 water.jpg

Perhaps all the new words are taken
and my pen– relegated
to thrift store fodder
rearranged and painted up
and succinct

On the edge I’ve been sitting on
since then
my own rough edges
you take notice of
are nothing
compared to what is inside–
the part I show to no one

April 30 wall.jpg

You didn’t see me anymore
and I started deleting–
rubbing myself
out of existence
one day sweet–the next sour
a warning would have been nice

Left on a shelf
like a single bookend–
we aren’t lovers
and we aren’t friends.
Is she as danced out as I?

april 30 windswept.jpg

From where I stand – stalwart
I see eternity. The
evening becomes you
and when the evening
becomes you–
you are everywhere
the moon is

April 30 spooky moon.jpg

You ask me how I am doing

The birch branches sway with the weight, of
small bits of ice
crystal shards that crack as the winds come ’round
then stop again
saying all is well

The robins don’t look as if they feel the cold
busy workers taking over the street
empty of folks with good sense
a wren, landing on a branch
when another gust whips the bough
and rising

Watching him cling, never
flung away
pulled east and west
until the most recent gale is done
as I cling to you O my God
while I am battered and blown


We went to see family in New York in June. These photos are not the best but they suit the moments, fleeting, on the way somewhere, and taken from the window of the car.

St K front

When I left home the first and second, and then for the last time, I would find places that inhabited peace. I’ve been to churches in many cities, sometimes just a visit to see the architecture, or with the hope that someone might be playing the pipe organ.
I liked the idea that the doors were open all day, even on weekdays.

Continue reading “Sanctuary”