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A FAREWELL VISIT
My mother no longer visits mein my dreams, actuallyneither does for I’ve had two,the advantage or is itdisadvantage of the adoptee.None of my three fathersever paid a postmortem visit.It complicates things when allI know of my birth mother isfrom a college yearbook photo,but that is how she looked in thosefew visits after I discovered her.The…
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TO A FATHER, NEVER KNOWN
You were to be my prophetand you played Jonah one morningby clutching your chest at the sinkand dropping to the floor, dead.You left me to wanderthrough Ninevah, a beggartwice robbed of originground pulled from beneath my feet.Why did you flee your taskthe one for which you were anointed.Couldn’t you see our home laid ruinconsumed by…
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ALWAYS LONGER
And so it is done and over. It took far longer than he anticipated. It always takes longer than he anticipates. If he allows extra time, it will still take longer than he anticipates. He knows he should stop anticipating, but he knows he is human and any time something is about to happen that…
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FINALLY
It should have been an abruption.That is how he wanted it, how it wouldhave been easier for all but he was notprone to confrontation and so it lingered,depleting, eroding, wearing down untilthere was finally the longed for abruption. He did not see it coming, it camefrom out of nowhere, a fuse litmuch earlier, the explosion…
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ON THE CUSHION
The day has slipped away,or mostly so, as they often doas if nature provided a hiddengrease that lets them outof our grasp no matterhow hard we try and hold them.It is little consolation, laterin life, that nights demonstrateand equal unwillingnessto remain very long, as ifour dreams must be hurriedas are our days and nights.Sitting on…
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SEASIDE
The ocean wind sweeps through the citya sudden rain washes sidewalk, shop, and street,carries both dreams and sins back to the sea. For the young child time slides by easily,life a campaign that allows no retreat.The ocean wind sweeps through the city, rattles church windows, so that all can seethe priest stripped of dogma. Christ…
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MOTHERS’ DAY
This is the day I am supposedto honor my motherbut I am torn as to which motherI should pay tribute, or is itboth or possibly neither.One carried me, bore meinto life and departed,for my good, for hers andthe grave has sworn her to silence.Is it the woman whoadopted me, I her onlyuntil her new husbandgave…
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A THOUSAND
There is a far less obviousbut very important reasonto be a poet, a bit less so, but stilla good reason to write prose.Perhaps you will say that myreason is wholly and solelyaudience specific, and youwould be at least partially right,for if, like me, you are inthe process of losing your sight,or have already done so,…
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MIND
It takes so little to take you back. It takes no thinking but sensing to take you back.You catch an aroma of a fresh baked pie and you are thirteen and baking for the first time, apple with a lattice top for a parent soon back from the hospital. A song played in memory of…
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LILAC FESTIVAL
It is nota signof the apocalypseor shouldn’t be. The parkis redolentwith the scentof lilacs in blossom. You can smell itblocks away,and they flockunder the watchfuleye of the crowsto the carny trailers for kettle corn,roasted coated nuts,cotton candyand the beer tent waitingfor the musicas the lilacs sitforlornly wonderingwhen theyceased to matter. First Published in Flora Fiction,…
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an old writer and his words 