If I still could, I would,busting out of my two-pointwith a stuttering shimmy-shake,crossing over to turn the DB’s hipsperpendicular to mine and then,about six strides off the line,quick-angle my shouldersand eyes toward the middle,plant my foot and take thatlong stride to the sideline,looking back toward the QB,expecting the ball to be…

What if we could talk?Just me and you.The you at the endof that last sentence.Face to face and eye to eye,no imagination interruptingmy listening and consumingyour words,like a hungry wolf.No preconceived notionsscreening your receptionof mine, like a shieldfending off proffered flowers.Could we manage that?I guess it doesn’t matter,

I suppose it’s not very brightto toss my line back in this stream.I know the fish prob’ly won’t bitea hook baited with hope and a dream. But that’s all I’ve left in the cansince all my night crawlers I’ve used.Those words wriggled in my brain pan,tangling in the dark, all confused. Though, once untied, in the daylight,

He would love the warmth of her heart, while she knew the beauty in his soul.And yet, it was, they strayed apart, while somehow they still made a whole.Nothing like that which might have been if they’d raced along together.Never competing, more akin to escaping their lives’ bad weather.But that’s a race that can’t be won…

It’s days like today whenI’d need walk next to the water. Didn’t matter if it was the river, the park pond or the one on campus, even any fountain tossing prisms of light and sound at my senses. They all spoke to me, while hanging art on the walls of my imagination. Too often they were pictures of you or melodies upon which…

I’ve lost so many memories of back when I could remember, back when a leaf may have spoken to me with two voices whenever I rubbed it softly between my fingers, back when I had the time to watch how the minute hand would crawl from the 58th little line on the circleto the big 12 it wore like a bindi…

I imagine…So much of my discourse sets sail on those two words.I imagine you this or they that.You know, I imagine it must be rather nice to or painful if.If you stop and are mindful of your langua…

I imagine…So much of my discourse sets sail on those two words.I imagine you this or they that.You know, I imagine it must be rather nice to or painful if.If you stop and are mindful of your language or thoughts,you, too, might cast off from the empirical to the perhaps more than you can imagine. …

“come,” i hear the voice say,each sleepless night to my closed ears and open eyes.“where?” i sometimes ask, when any destination might do. “does it matter?” replies the voice i might recognize from any yesterday if tomorrow wasn’t the closer one to me. “are you going with me?” i hear from that small space within, dim-lighted from dying hopes…

my fingertips are soft 
so to play for you is possibly painful, even though my fingers are strong.
but i wish to play you a someday song, so pain is possible
no matter how gentle
the strings and i commune. better perhaps applying my fingertips to yours. we could listen, without hearing, to our whorls and loops strum in a harmony.

Rhymes I’d need would include one’s like “manic,”unless I bent the hell out of the words.So maybe I can’t write one about panic, 
though it looks like I’ve a head start on “birds.”But I love to twist rhymes, not quite organic,
where two words jibe with the end of a line.Idea’s to not clang your mind’s tympanic


The house’s shadows reach from dawn to the pines, while the oaks tower above and reach beyond them all. The coda from spring songs signal the second act of courtship as new nests settle where last …

I never painted you any pictureexcept maybe with these silly old words.Not old ones like you would find in Scripture,just the same la-la tweet-tweet like some birds.But if I did a picture one day p…

The strings beneath my fingers bite like February would my ungloved paperboy hands. Lost my calluses like memories of those days, when I had more hair than sense instead of less of both. Trying to …

If it was fun, you might be rightin saying “Where’s the fun in that?”If it wasn’t fun, you’d also be rightsquinting over my shoulder asI tap away here and whispergasp,“You can’t be serious!”S…

Sometimes I wonder what we’d be like, if once again we were shiny and new.No new burdens yet to be carried on the still-unknown road ahead. No this way or that decisions yet. Just humming along sha…

The list would be long, if I’d stop to count. Some are big and weigh me down to my knees, others I trip over where I used to leap. I wish I could rid myself of them because they poke and prod me wh…

The words came easier to me than the others, but by then, I’d translated so many letters into mind-pictures from the bubbles above the costumed crime fighters’ pulp-pictures in my uncle’s comic boo…

A seed doesn’t know what it one day will become once it falls to earth. So a tree fallen beside,knew not it was born a seed.On the first day of 2026’s National Poem Writing Month (herea…

Vivaldi gave it voice with birdsong violins and four-stringed snow melttumbling down musical staff streambeds on the way to April.This I recall because I would listen to it over and over again,
my …

Tomorrow’s coming whether I want it or not.The next day’s just tomorrow’s tomorrow.Yesterday was once a tomorrow, I recall.The day before that day, as well.And though I cannot touch any tomorrow,I …

Let’s do (and say we didn’t.)Would this small world even care?I know, t’was never in the cards,but what if I took your dare?What if I stepped out of shadowsinto sunlight with my eyes shaded?Who wou…

Sadness is invisible and weighs not a thing, but it holds me face down like some bullying Goliath. And I am no David. All that I can sling are words with less gravity than sadness, and if ever they…

My cheek sizzles where the wind slapped it. This complicated duetI share with winter reachingits crescendo, both of ushowling, and only one using words. No one can hear them above the roarfrom the …

Each day the window frames the same picture — three slender oaks, five stout pines and sundown’s slice of western sky.At night, moonshadows of the trees crawl up the side of the house to your windo…

They say if you squint you can break this shattered world into basic shapes. A field of dandelions could seem an expanse of green sea all a’bubble, roiling and boiling, searching for some shore to …

I knew we had to talk by the way she wouldn’t talk. The only back and forth she’d share were glances. But I could understood what she wanted to tell me.“Don’t look at me like that,” said Glance 1. …

Forever they sang all about it being blue, that feeling one gets from missing someone like you.But I can tell all that it’s simply not true.Blue is the color of that Carolina sky,or maybe the ocean…

I guess you must have dreams before any of your dreams can come true. Though there are such things as flourless cakes, which seem pretty sweet.Sure, I’ve had dreamy hopes and aspirations beneath my…

How did we get here, ever heartbeat close yet worlds away?Where I see you as you mightwish to be seen, but feel you’re notand you hear me how you wish you didn’t, but are glad you do?Do you look ba…

I can’t recall if her eyes were blue, they might’ve been gray, but her hair was legit blond. She was kinda skinny. But warm from her laugh to her toes when she’d come sit by me in the TV lounge mos…

Why should I care if I belong with some macro or micro “them?”I wasn’t some preteen girl sighinginto the mirror, clouding the viewof what makes her Her behind those sad eyes. And I’m no longer the …

I dreamt I was in the library, a pleasant enough locale. Up and down the aisles, I wandered, just observing the thickness and colors of the thousands of volumes. Not once did I stop to read any of …

I’m searching for a word, one that’s lost to me. Didn’t fly off like a bird,nor head out to sea.But this word has some weight, it’s anchoring my heart.No, it’s nothing like Fate, though determines …

I tried today, I truly did,
to find the words inside to tell you.
But I guess I must have misplaced them
in my move from youngheart to oldsoul.
Been searching for weeks and weeks
and all I’ve found…

“so what have you done with your life?”and my answer would tumble in a mumble “not much.” because recalling would be lifting more than my ragged memory could heft.i knew i w…

This poem is small,much like the start of it all,when I wrote haiku,not yet secret odes ‘bout you.They had no rhyming,just beat counts, soul, some timing, and nature, to start.But then soul gave wa…

The time doesn’t go by so much as we go by time, staring at it like we expect it to fly when it can barely crawl. You’d come by, sit at my shoulder, sharing a stare with me until you needed to go. …

The leaves decided to test gravity today, the still-greenish scouts launching themselves into the September breeze.And for a while, they broke laws that Newton enacted, since nobody then wanted to …

Cracked open the blinds across my bedroom window last night. Since some invisible thorn was jabbing my sleep-craving mind. Thought I might as well see what stories the moon’s light might carve behi…

the neighborhood was tough enough as i dragged myself across its asphalt six afternoons a week. i saw the sinas we each shed our skin and allfacade was lost. you can read the scars, if i let you. y…

In the washing machine-broken silence,I’ve waited hours for inspiration to call.But inspiration ghosted me years agolike you did once and everyone else has since. Though I was really the ghost.Funn…

I remember the day you let me in to see your new situation and I was so nervous I’d say the wrong thing, I just ahhh’d dry anxiety out my throat. You still believe I have a way with words. Besides,…

I like to think it’s magic I’m making, right here for my rapt audience of one.My kid would think the same of her baking, but who doesn’t love a warm cinnamon bun?Watch, she’ll mix ingredients in me…

I’ve been avoiding it,jumping in the river again. The water’s frightful cold and the punishing current swift and strong.I’ve seen it carve itself new blue line paths, taking great bites from …