Windows (more or less)









stained (in the good way)

glassy glimpses


expositions of humanity

behavioral truth-tellers

gatekeepers of light and dark

abbreviated life panes


and, sadly of course, evil progeny of Bill Gates

— inspired by a poetry writing class windows prompt


Wishful land captains

The world is at best fleetingly ship shape

burdened with orders to bow to the stern

we are lectured that any port in a storm will suffice

but perpetual turbulence keeps most of us in dry dock servitude

wishful land captains

afraid, our personal cargo dry but with a longing for more

something greater than shouting ahoy to the flotsam and jetsam of the coastline

so rather than take to water, we don a variety of lifejackets

be they a weapon, bad love, contraband, poverty of the mind, excess in all its capacities, portholes as peep holes, even three coins in the fountain

anything to provide distraction during our inevitable personal capsizings

the miracle is a few choose paddling towards freedom’s siren, even to death, rather than remain fretting, paralyzed and alone

— inspired by a poetry writing class nautical prompt 

The De-evolution of Normal

I need loyalty

everything staying in its place

trust and respect

for faithfulness is woefully underrated

However, certain of my possessions apparently have squandered this compact

choosing greener pastures

apparently discontented and now truant

Why don’t they remain in their place?

Then, they return

but by then I may not recall their absence

as my neurons shrink and synapses misfire

however, all is again momentarily well

until the inevitable next time

or worse

my future being this brain of mine disappearing my loved ones

but will I know?

Painful truth

My first job, if you will, was fretting about my family

as if a 12-year-old could form a clear picture

I knew joy and laughter were sorely absent

in this festering family abscess

but lacked the experience to formulate how askew we were

as silence dripped into a pervasive roar

It was the day in-day out, unadorned resignation

kinship and camaraderie absent

during my solitary life of reading and writing and wondering

but never sharing

So why not perform an exorcism on this loneliness and solitude?

neither was welcomed

and import touch, embrace and warmth

Ha!!! The goddamn lesson I learned is that hope and deserving fall woefully short when butting heads with colossal need

that children will inherit the legacy when adults are woefully damaged

that it’s carved in caves prehistoric and never not to be

For a child cannot fix parents

20th Century Narcissus

Grace has eluded me.

Damn her.

In my search, I swam the seven seas

rode the four winds

appealed for help from those in the high heavens

hired Sherlock Holmes

inquired with Interpol

lamentably, all to no avail


Grace never responded

all was silence

my pleas and petitions going for naught

my entreaties and beseeching just fading echoes hurtling into the void

On the bright side however, no accusations of stalking have ever been leveled at me


Then came the shocking news.


But minus me.

I failed without ever being in consideration

But she was of Irish heritage and so was I

Alfred Hitchcock even owned a house here in Scotts Valley

I have qualities so many envy

Settling for the prince of a shrimpy 500 acre monarchy?

Graceless, I am


Ecstasy is a child’s hunger ceasing

Agony is four more years

Ecstasy is elevating work from toil to joy

Agony is expending hate

Ecstasy is witnessing smiles and absorbing laughter

Agony is bitter silence

Ecstasy is serving delight to others

Agony is separateness

Ecstasy is being ensconced in a coven of angels

Agony is evaporating a thirst for justice

Ecstasy is the side excursions on the curlicue path towards fulfillment

Agony is the malice of mislove

Ecstasy is the messy splatter of creative expression

Agony is the stifling of the vocabulary that describes your world

Ecstasy is…

Agony is…

Seeking Virtue

I made a promise to myself

already knowing it would not stand

is it a lie, an error, less or worse

knowing your vow will arrive stillborn?


Do my pledges make the universe bristle or laugh?

as I toil and attempt without vacation

at my peaks and through my lows

through intimate terrain and behavior unfamiliar


It’s a battle for consciousness in the quest for grace

one’s actions, the single reality test of transformation

through obscure daily stations of the human cross

my pursuit to live unblemished will carry on


Not speaking of the mariner Sinbad

But rather the negative behavioral declaration

It being a constant reminder to shun wrongdoing

The superego of monikers

Morally born of a spiritual tryst between a Catholic nun and Baptist fundamentalist

Likely a blood relation of the unreformed Miss Deeds

With No-ahhhhhh being a distant relative who perpetually succumbs to immorality despite initial admonitions