Monday, December 28, 2009

ode to spring

A bit of wishful thinking - spring in the midst of winter:

Oh spring,

if you were but mortal,

or better yet, that I

was the May breeze,

you and I could make

such delicate love,

for I have long been

enamored with you.

Like loving fingers

through cascading hair,

I would weave magic

in your meadow grasses

and flowering trees.

I would move over your

greening landscapes

with a most ardent touch

and spread the intoxicating

fragrances of your

blossoms as a priceless

perfume for the only

one I could ever love.

I would caress your

billowing clouds, ferrying

them gently about, and

we would lie naked upon

their undulating waves

and allow the sun to warm us.

God, what a dreamer! What

a spell spring has cast.

Oh, if I were but the breeze.

Monday, December 21, 2009

first light

first light
song sparrows scale
the clematis ladder


tree-lined road
the accelerated turn
to gold

Both published in Third Issue, Notes from the Gean

Saturday, December 19, 2009


I am
as this dead
fly, scraping
back and forth
along the
window sill,
by currents
of stale hot air.
My life is
as meaningless
as the dry
husk of this

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

into mist . . .

river's mouth
the osprey disappears
into mist


cicada husks
clinging to the screen door
...autumn deepens

Published in Issue Three of Notes from the Gean

Friday, December 11, 2009


Snow fell steadily the night before,

falling on both the wealthy and not so,

coating with cleanliness, purity all who

do not deserve and the very few who may.

The snow descended coldly and deeply,

blanketing gravestones and angels alike.

Distinguishable only by their shadows

and heavenward stares and stances,

they continue to designate where bodies

lay and bright hopes are finished.

Despite the softness and the silence,

above the solitude and endless white,

the boundless rage of ended dreams

seems to penetrate upward, to shriek.

First published in Magnapoets

Friday, December 4, 2009