Delicious surrenderlike morphine – sweet and softnumb flowing in gentle riversto push away the pain of thoughtlike the ratty Winnie the Poohthey gave you at sixto chase the
Poetry
I have been writing poetry since the 2nd grade. Why stop now?
Poetry
Leaving Something Behind
We are travellerssome lightwith a backpacksome burdenedwith flashy luggagewas it from Winners?but at every stopalong the waywe leavesomething behinda baseball mitton the bleachersa cellphonetucked in the seatof the
Poetry
Even The Stones Cry
Intelligencea burden not carriedby many in the streetswith MAGA flagsand ill-hidden bigotryflashed like a badgeof honour, or something,our times are not shockingto those who reador have read and
Poetry
Sumac Flames
Sumac flamesagainst a leaden skyone last burning emberof the summer past. The leaves are turningdrought curled carpettoo late the refreshmentof the pelting rain. The taste of fogreplaces smokey
Poetry
A Day So Quiet
A day so quiet,you can hear the rustleof Frieda’s leashin fallen leaves,or children playingin the parkthree blocks away. These are days to remember,not the big promotionor the long