Wednesday, May 16, 2012

First Dirt

I imagine
the first dirt
you play in as a child
enters your bloodstream
through your fingers
and toes,
creating a bond
that cannot be erased,
though it can be changed
as layers of sediment
through travels,
this first dirt
into a layer of bedrock
on which
you stand.

Friday, May 11, 2012

The trouble is, you run into people

Architectural flourishes
seem to bloom in the spring
as heliotropic humans
raise their eyes to the Sun
and notice
what has been there for generations.
Ornate corbels
supporting cornices atop buildings
where cantilevered windows
open like petals
under the Spring sun.
Pilastered walls
supporting porticos
to nowhere
names at the top
chiseled in relief
evoke memories
of a time
to remember.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Over Apathy Falls in a Barrel

Disguised as rain,
apathy keeps falling from the sky,
striking the leaves
on the tree of good hope,
making them tremble
before hitting the earth
and dampening the ground
wasted oppurtunity.

Monday, May 7, 2012


"Baseball stories resemble wartime tales.
Some are told as they actually happened.
Others are told as we think they did.
Regardless of the specifics, all of them are true."
-- Dan Ewald

It used to be
that 7 year-olds
could slip out of the house,
just after dawn
leaving behind tells
(milk spilled on the table)
(dirty bowl in the sink)
for still sleeping parents,
who would know
(baseball bat missing)
    (glove too)
that their son
was doing nothing
other than spending
a glorious summer day
as it was meant to be spent --
under the sun
on a makeshift ball field
with all of the time
in the world.