If I understand
correctly, then
I have stumbled
on a rule,
a pratfall,
in my case,
accidentally
into a truth.
Not that rules
or truths must
ever exist
necessarily:
here, where I am lost, is
where the first word falls.
(April 24, 2026)
Category: aging
-
-
“Oh, God said to Abraham, ‘Kill me a son.’
—Bob Dylan
I want to write
something other
than this poem;
this trifle;
this moment,
but this is all
I have to give
after another
eventless day.
Another day
which was enough
for what I had
to accomplish,
as this poem
is enough for
it is all
that I have
left to offer.
(April 20, 2026)
-
From lackadaisical shadows
beneath a deep summer shade,
Long afternoons stretch slowly
into the lengthening night;
and old conversations drift
into comfortable silences.
Bits begin to fall away.
One idea contradicts
another until only a shape
of what’s not there remains
like ash, from a low fire,
maintains the shape of the wood
before collapsing upon itself,
and all that was there is not
but shadows cast by the moon.
(April 13, 2026)
-
The ground shimmers
beneath my feet;
I reach out to find
a wall to steady
the loss of gravity,
until time gathers
the disparate shapes
back into me.
I’ve heard this before—again, too often.
So much so,
I stop listening:
I know how it ends;
we all know the end.
(April 11, 2026)
-
The dogs sleep in balls
tightly curled next to my chair.
Roses bloom outside.
(April 3, 2026)
-
Poem
by
A rose requires
no one to notice
it bloom; come spring,
it just blooms.
(March 27, 2026)
-
Sancho Panza
by
Nine books lie
on my bedside
table, unread:
six poetry,
two non-fiction,
and Don Quixote.
I should finish
Cervantes—
or at leaststart— once
again, now
that I’m older,
and his windmills
have turned to giants.
(March 24, 2026)
-
I’m Okay Now
by
aging, change, gratitude, happiness, life, perspective, poetry, present, retirement, teaching, time, transition, writing
three years ago
at sixty-three
after thirty-four years
I stopped teaching
I stopped takinganti-depressants
stopped drinking
as much
the night terrorsthough not stopped
are less frequent
and less frantic
I am not somebodyout of a capra film
nor a famous nobody
listening to frogs sing
I am me— an old manwho still loves lisa
and writes little poems
few people will read
(March 16, 2026)
-
i don’t know
he says to himself
about nothing in particular
and then smilesfor he knows
for once he’s right
(February 25, 2026)
-
Walking into the kitchen
I forget my reason
for going; I stop,
and retrace my steps.
As when I am reading
and my attention drifts
lost in the dream of text,
I must return, sometimes
pages back, to regain
myself and what it was
I was looking for before
I wandered through the door.
(February 24, 2026)
-
- Climate
another warm day
too warm for February
the knife’s at our throat
belief thrives in a stasischange requires an awareness
2) Predictive Value in Metaphoreach morning we ask
after the night’s restlessness
as if a portent
one thing is like anotherthus as above so below
(February 10, 2026)
-
no one is home
no one sits in the dark
alone
no one waits for the keyto slip in the lock
and turn with a click
no door openswith a repressed
creak
no one is leftto ask for explanations
but you
no one but youand it is late
and the house is dark
(January 23, 2026)
subtext 