Friday, April 19, 2013


Note: this partly a found poem, pulled from the pages of the
Kentucky Gazette and general advertiser, July 29, 1806, found
at the digital public library of America (

My head aches
from changes in pressure
and my vision swims,
replacing what I know is here
with a vision
I’ve only seen in history collections.
I stand
in front of
whose table
is plentifully supplied
with the best viands
the season can afford,
next door to
Trotter & Tilford,
newly stocked with
received from Philadelphia:
fancy callicoes and chintzes
Longhorn and Dunstable bonnets
for cash in hand,
but my hands are empty
and my pockets
only hold plastic
so I turn back,
by what is lost
along the road
and burned
from our collective

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Stale Poetry, Fast

Against a backdrop
of this everything now world
I find myself slowing down,
this ordinary minute,
this action of pen in hand
transferring thoughts to paper,
creased from its time in my back pocket,
could be sliced,
and placed under a microscope
to be examined
before it is converted
to ones and zeros
and broadcast
to the Earth.
here it is.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Why droplets of water cling to the underside of bare spring branches

-- for Domino

Gray skies
and wet winds
carry the hidden magic
of color
which they gift
to dormant grasses
and early spring risers
coloring them
in rich greens
and vibrant yellows.
Standing beneath
a bare maple
I focus through
a droplet of water
and see
a world of color
and magnified
against an expanse
of glorious

Thursday, April 11, 2013

In Case of Gray

This first hard spring rain
has washed away my blue sky,
leaving mottled gray skies
where tendrils of melancholy
reach down
trying to touch my smile.
I fight back
with a yellow daffodil
clutched in my hand like a sword
and a running start across a field of
verdant green
sliding in
to cover my knees in sorrows mortal enemy-
grass stains.

I smile.

Monday, April 8, 2013

Teaching the Sun to Shine

She paints her sunrise amethyst
then smiles a young girl’s smile,
with just a trace
of devilishness
for she knows that all the world
is here
before her
for her,
so she shines.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Hold that Thought

-- in response to De Jackson’s Boxing Shadows from day 2 of the April PAD

This box full of darkness
has a small hole
in one of the corners
where it bangs up against hope.
And hope,
(that little devil never gives up)
carrying thirty times her weight in despair,
turns the box
from this dank corner
so light
can enter
and hope
(the little narcissist)
can again be seen.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Morning Song

This morning traffic has rhythm,
a horn blast from outside
a trumpet blast from within,

a short stop outside
is followed by
a crash (cymbal) in,

I shake my head
to clear this illusion,

for I know
the world
and I
are never
in tune.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

This bit of Brightness is Brought to you by . . .

Red bell peppers
over blue flame
as they release
their water
and their waxy
supermarket skin
cracks and blackens
the brilliant red,
but adding
a smoky hint
of mystery
to this otherwise