Thursday, August 27, 2015

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Sunday, August 23, 2015

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Two-line Poem #20

"Emulate the ire," my Scottish friend
said. I break the briar to make my bed. 


Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Choo Choo Tune

(for Theo Erickson)

Trains ain't made to fly. 
They are made to tow
all the goods we love
and blow their whistle
loud enough to stop
and say, "Hello!"

Trains are boys toys,
but cool girls like 'em
too. They make funny
noises like choo choo,
beep beep, and the brakes 
go squeak squeak!

I ride a cool train
that goes underground!
It takes me to my
writing spot where
I can see the sun come
up and watch the pretty people

walking 'round my city.
Trains make me happy.


Photo courtesy of Craig Ruttle



Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Laney at Mary O's

Nobody knows what happens
behind closed doors except those
attending a communal wonder:
a pianist tenaciously performing

love. 

A gloved hand hides
its sins. The working man,
pianist or carpenter, wears
his epidermal honesty. 
He lies to none
and hammers the keys. 

Aural beauty's indiscriminate
only eyes lie to ears. 

The Texas fiend makes
ears weep at the spectacle
of his vessel that he's
flaying with piano strings. 

Yet most just sit
in silent bliss,
receiving the harmless
gift of art. 


Thursday, August 13, 2015

Tuesday, August 4, 2015