Monday, September 6, 2021

Grace

A lucky aspect of living is seeing yourself lovingly through another’s eyes. 



Wednesday, September 1, 2021

Solitude

The gray sky hides the sun. 
I see others’ backs walking toward the train. 
Quiet footsteps on wet cement. 
A garbage truck’s brakes hiss behind me. 


Tuesday, August 24, 2021

Monday, August 2, 2021

Compassionate Advice

“Take a fierce running mare out to pasture and what are you gonna do? Use her to train others or put her down.

She’s done her work, don’t breed her.”



Wednesday, July 28, 2021

Spontaneous Poem for Joe D

An earnest heart can fall
apart with too much woe.
Friends mend hearts. All
of us need shoulders to
cry on at times. Yours are
broad. You carry so much.
Let us share the weight.


Tuesday, July 27, 2021

Practicing Heartbreak

Years teach one to mend 
one’s chest after each 
deep unrest. Everyone
learns the best seat 

is the corner seat. 
With your back to the wall 
you can stand tall 
after the party ceases. 

I don’t know. My heart 
has creases from excessive 
scar healing. I’m far 
from having a proper perspective. 

A broken bone is stronger 
after becoming unbroken. 
A broken heart is bolder 
if one can be forgiven. 


Tuesday, June 22, 2021

Love Poem

John Berryman 
sang his dreams 
into reality. Every man 
dreams. My seams 

have been torn. 
My life was born 
in sorrow. My wailing, 
never failing, lifts me 

into the stratosphere.  
Spheres or orbs 
help me lay my sword 
down. I cannot fear. 

Leslie, the best me, 
is housed in applause. 
This ship yaws. See 
me here. Hear me.


Friday, June 18, 2021

Tuesday, June 15, 2021

16 Syllables

How does one become a writer? 
One becomes a reader. Then writes. 


Thursday, June 10, 2021

Aged 50

In ten years I 
hope to clearly 
write poems 
without punctuation
without wasted words

with nothing but heart


Monday, May 31, 2021

Forever Love

Trusting your significant other will eventually see the face they saw when you fell in love.

Trusting your significant other will eventually forgive the face they saw when you fell out of love.



Wednesday, May 26, 2021

To my brother, Nicolas

There is instinct, there is twin-stinct and then there is us. 
Neither of the former are as powerful as the latter.


Saturday, May 22, 2021

Gentle Honest Friends

A cigarette is an adult pacifier, a binkie--but at least a baby knows it. Nope. Neither knows it.

Both can only grow out of it with help. Help they don't want because it hurts.

It stunts their growth to have it. Their emotional growth, not physical.

Adults don't realize that God wants to kindly pull it out of their mouths.

If one doesn't believe in God, they need to listen to the observations repeated by good friends and strangers.

Friends say it nicely. Strangers give the news harshly.

Blessed are those
with good friends.
Gentle honest friends.

Replace "a cigarette" with "an emotionally comforting unhealthy behavior" and you can't judge the smokers.


Thursday, May 13, 2021

Tattoos

The bent arrow reminds 
her of sorrow. The golden 
ratio's geometry divines 
peace. Others embolden 

past memories or mind 
frames. She's not beholden 
to them. She's ever 
Kristen, herself, forever.


Sunday, April 25, 2021

Notes

Journal Excerpts

Being an artist is a unique curse. He is misunderstood but helps others see themselves.

God, I'd ask for my eyes to be blessed by folly but that's just as stupid as asking for wisdom.

I have to remember that my poet heroes are those who persisted despite the demons inside themselves. Some won. Many didn't. Those who won shook hands with their internal enemies and acknowledged that they were him and he were they.

She would tolerate her kitten's kneading her bare arm. She's accepted the pain of love, before.

God is more than a reflection of ourselves.

I was reading about Roethke's experience with writing. He let go a bit as he aged--he let loose and improved.

How to honor a painting with a poem? It's been done. How to honor a Van Gogh painting with a poem? One must be in tune with the spirit.

This is my favorite part of the day, sitting at my desk by the partially opened kitchen window and reading/writing just before dawn. The sky goes from deep blue, pink to purple, orange, and then there she is over the neighboring buildings. Likewise the color of the buildings change with the rising sun as the windows are lighted one by one, and the neighbors are rising. Now there is only two lighted apartment windows in the rear square yard. The sun is up.

"I keep making what I can't do yet in order to learn to be able to do it." Van Gogh to Van Rappard


Thursday, April 15, 2021

6

The rain eases.
A black-capped
chickadee trills
joy, screams relief.
So brash! The leaves 
clap encouragingly. 


Saturday, April 3, 2021

5

(Photo by Taslima Akhter)

The sea of stone 
in which they swim 
cements the lovers' 
embrace. 
                One wave's 
weight breaks 
her back. 
                The death-
grip strain stains his 
cheek, a final tear 
of blood.


Wednesday, March 31, 2021

4

Daybreak exhumes
the edifice out of the night
and lights its many gilded eyes.


Friday, March 26, 2021

3

The river thunders. 
In fits, the mist lifts over
the bridge, and a hierarchy
of green climbs the cliffs
till crowning the falls.
Dr. Williams, do these
things hold ideas?


Friday, March 19, 2021

Thursday, March 18, 2021

1

I'm starting a series of small poems that are pictures, real or imagined.

My window 
frames you, dove, 
frozen above 
the naked oak.