The Life in Front of You - April 27, 2023
never ever write a poem after reading the newspaper unless you intend to counterpoint social injustice murder or war try a favorite cup...
never ever write a poem after reading the newspaper unless you intend to counterpoint social injustice murder or war try a favorite cup...
the sloppy soap the endless rinse of dirt and scum that annoying spray shaken from a dog’s misery 500 scissored snips to hear “nice job”...
after 70 years it no longer hurts and I don’t mourn or even sigh in silence at the end of a day I’m OK letting another one go whatever...
Sunday afternoons around here there’s always a boxing match lazy vs. sleepy no motivation matched up against no energy they face off in...
little kids hug my knees teenagers mostly get to the waist adults press their turned heads to my chest I am a wooden fencepost in a field...
without the sun I am a dry wick waiting to be lit finally there it is the flame that pierces the clouds ignites my candle it f l I c k e...
time alone with my notebook is such precious time our breakfast meetings over coffee staring out the window the world in mid-yawn when...
after a day of serving life and seeing death whether in blood or tears anger or fear screams or despair I congratulate every face of...
I toss and turn in starlight leaking around the blind’s edges mom lies without expression open casket lightless ready room while...
your bed is your lover the nightly embrace soft breath on skin mumbles in dreams tumbling with passion sweat under the blankets and...
youngsters don’t sigh much we old folks do it a lot whining without words
there might be another meaning to that old proverb about “slow and steady wins the race” that’s it’s not a competition but an expectation ...
in the old days I’d have been a farmer which makes me think I should never complain about my sore back which never did hoe rows of...
the problem with parking lots is cars they’re too much silent metal muted glass sleeping tires if we still had horses there’d be snorts...
someday I’d like to have a booth there if it’s one of my stranger displays you’ll probably read praise in my words encouragement that...
I remember the big breath of Monday morning the slow exhale of Friday afternoon the mad scramble for them In the days between and how I...