Wednesday, November 30, 2011


That I sit here
surrounded by
crayon drawings
of big headed girls
(she’s in her big head phase)
and photographs of family
sometimes startles me,
looking back,
I identified with
(then) planet Pluto.
The smallest
furthest away
speck of a world
and I marvel
at the collisions
which brought me

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

What is this daytime you speak of

distinguishes itself from night
only in the quantity
of gray light it provides.
The rain still falls,
pulling color from life
as it washes down.
School buses splash by,
no longer yellow
but drifting in to
on their way down spectrum.
The color white
is only an abstract idea,
a Platonic ideal,
that exists
only in a perfect world
where perfect rain
perfect sun
and warms

Tuesday, November 22, 2011


Perhaps I’ll dance,
this afternoon,
while snowflakes cascade down,
clinging to my eyelashes,
blurring my vision,
presenting me a kaleidoscope world
where I’ll spin until
I’m too dizzy to stand,
so I’ll fall harmlessly
into a pile of leaves
then roll
into the cabbage patch
and see
if my head
stands out
in the crowd.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Whenever the Grays meet the Blues

Sandwiched between harsh light
and gray windows
I choose gray light
where at least a water color sky
offers cold greeting
and the small remains of yellow
dot the still green grass.
I color in the rest with red socks
and blue sleeves
before confronting the first day
of melancholy.
Perhaps I’ll dance
this afternoon.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Forced Focus

Dense fog
forces me to focus
on the world
in front of my eyes.
The horizon is a myth.
Turning the corner
November chrysanthemums,
burnt orange and butter
the gray-white fog,
brilliant color
as though knowing
this day would arrive.
only in the shroud.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Once Upon a Sidewalk

Darkness falls earlier.
Shorter days and time change,
change the atmosphere
of a simple walk downtown.

Shorter days and time change.
Downtown feels cosmopolitan
though it’s only three blocks long.
Lighted windows and inviting warmth.

Downtown feels cosmopolitan.
Coffee shops and frozen custard.
College students à la mode
smiling at the one holding my hand.

Coffee shops and frozen custard.
Frozen treats from the warmth of inside.
Looking out at the sidewalk, watching
as home passes by the window.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Why we have more than sight

Lying on my back,

under a tree,
in the woods,
wanting to capture
the perfect image
of a leaf in descent.
It seems important
to try and focus
on one leaf
among millions.
That there is something
one flight
against blue sky
can say.
But warm sun
distracts me,
begging me
to close my eyes
and listen
to the woods
and sigh.
I can hear
the sound of leaf
on leaf
as they crash
to the ground
with all the force
they can muster.
A slip of sound,
never noticed,
only imagined.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Pushed or Fallen

She sits
at the furthest edge
of the playground.
Knees up toward her chin,
holding the notebook
in which she has sketched
the delicate leaves
which have fallen
to the asphalt
in front of her.
Small bits of beauty
like herself,
they are sketched
each one,

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Some Days, I Hate Yellow

Yellow streetlights
Against yellow leaves
Throw me into a sepia toned world,
Where the streetlight
throwing my shadow
flickers and dances
as gas burns.
My frock coat opens
in the breeze,
exposing my waistcoat
in the light
for just a moment
before the light
winks out of existence,
leaving me in a darkness
not experienced since childhood.
The world smells different,
both cleaner
and dirtier
depending on the shifting winds.
I blink
and it’s gone.
I stand, shod is ASICS,
jacketed in fleece,
transfixed by yellow.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Carry On

With one pull of the rake
the wasps nest bounces
to the top.
So light
as to belie its very substance.
Hexagonal walls
still intact,
offering resistance
to my hand
as pressure is applied.
Beauty in design
I could never
Nor want to,
as the master
of this craft
lives here

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Another Ordinary

"I know it sounds a bit cliché
There's no such thing
As just an ordinary day " - Phineas and Ferb

She shuffles through
the piles of leaves
at the edge of the trail,
then clambers up onto a stump,
posing for a photograph.
As I snap the sun washed scene
it occurs to me that this is, perhaps,
the thirteenth
or fourteenth photograph
from this same spot.
The first, of a small girl,
barely walking, who needed to be picked up
and placed on the stump
while her mother worried she might fall.
This last, for now, of a girl
tall enough to ride
a roller-coaster.
I discretely wipe my eyes
as I tuck away
another ordinary day.