by

I did not know him
as the child I was
anymore than the man
I have become—
He was a shadow
sifted in story
his deep voice laced
with decades of smoke
before dying
into mom’s revisions
I still don’t know
what I was afraid of
(Father’s Day: June 21, 2026)
by

If something is not part
of a pattern, does not repeat,
is it still not a norm—
the norm of the anomaly?
For more than fifty years,
I have scratched my poems
like a dog its ear searching
for temporary relief.
The comfort of a pattern:
another successful day
passes without consequence.
I’ve placed a word on a page,
replaced nothing with purpose.
As above so below.
(June 20, 2026)
by

God gives meaning to us
as we give meaning to God
depending on what One means
we are the power and the glory
on Earth as it is in Heaven
forever and ever amen
(June 15, 2026)

As I lacked the keys
and unspoken passwords
manners and intrinsic tropes provided
to those born oblivious within their walls,
I have never understood
how life works—
There was always
too much
that would not find its pattern,
too much
that had been broken and scattered
like ancient mosaics,
once Roman floors,
no longer conformed
to forgotten wars.
I was rarely satisfied
with what I knew,
as if the next glance,
the next book,
the next conversation—
might reveal it all.
For decades now,
I’ve stood outside
with one ear pressed
against a door
listening
for the right key
to slip the lock ;
for the hidden tumblers
to fall;
for the right door
to admit us all.
(June 14, 2026)