What I Imagine When Someone Explains my Poetry to Me

He stands on a small rock

in the middle of a river;

the water rushes past

an obvious metaphor.

He ignores the danger,

and leaps the gap to land

on the next wet stone

barely within his compass;

And there, as he teeters,

searching for his balance,

he hears the falls hunger,

then is neither here, nor there,

but lost in the churning froth

of some other’s creation.

(September 6, 2020)

Interrupted While Reading in Public

A nothing—

you suppose

and assume

too much

upon others:

as if your presence,

and proximit,y

are enough,

you claim space

upon our attention.

You who speaks

a flurry

of flatulence—

Who are you

to say we’re rude?

Like pebbles,

you throw words

to blind,


and silence.

At best, 

you are a gnat

flitting between

this book

and the table.

(September 16, 2019)

The Arousing (shock, thunder)

from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress

A door blows open;

I wake to a storm.

A familiar room whirls

in disarray. Fear dares

for someone to speak.

(May 17, 2019)

Desire for Desire


He pointed out the apple.

She naively bit her lip, but

not her tongue, and said

Wouldn’t that be wrong?


Who says what’s wrong,

he said, then laughed.

If one is good, and one

bad simply in saying,


should the word hold sin,

or the one who speaks

into division? Do words

so stage our reactions,


or are our words an apple

offered up in innocence?


(October 7, 2018)

Sleight of Hand



I am talking to myself,

or projections of myself,

when I write these poems

to you. Either way,

the audience is oblivious—

focused on melodrama

with a simple plot

to turn attention

from my intent,

and your distractions.


(July 21, 2018)

the soft ooze

to speak as I desire
true to my knowings
shatters like ice
decorum’s scarab
tight sarcophagus
these multiple
quick lines
of dissection
sharply through
my carapace
slowly open
the soft ooze
of truth to those
willing to view
my unsettled life

(February 20, 2015)

a lover’s quick note

hidden deep
in a broken cage
insecurity flutters
like baby birds
upon the ground
stirring cats
with the sound
all our pushing
back and forth
away away
might justly
mean for now
not until
you have gone
so come back
talk again
around my life
like butterflies
dancing about
an open field
of butter cups
and I will share
my vagaries
for you to hear
and laugh at
as if a stick
poking the tired
sleepy bear

(January 17, 2015)


Know this –
I am transformed
by you
at a loss
as to what to do
knowing I am
a fool
in love

(January 14, 2015)

Ode to a Busy Body

my mother too cut news articles to send
when she felt them pertinent to problems
she saw in others with the hope change
would flower like cancer’s fractaled growth
through the recipients’ complete being
until we thanked her profusely for the help
we did not seek nor knew we needed
since wisdom unlike arrogance languishes
in abeyance among plebeians like us
who wait so eagerly for your enlightened
missives to transform our troubled lives
in these nine easy steps if we could only see
with the same clarity as you what all is wrong
with everything about us which is not you
(December 28, 2014)

I Reach for You Through the Dark

I over think most except for myself
I tend to skip along humming past there
for those places I turn away at least
glancing above or to the side afraid
if eye contact is made I’ll fail to be
true or I will be me which is worse
either way I’ll be telling lies to pass
through the rest of my troubled day
so when she writes or touches my arm
I question each nuance except my own
desire which provides the multiple veils
to occlude all sense I see hiding there
because I so want to need it to be
within close reach of my consummation

(November 10, 2014)