HE WAS HOME

the language of keys in the lock,   an abrupt shutting signaling the adult force   he opens a cabinet, the refrigerator mumbles a few words   shuts the cellar door then moves with a slow steady gait, heavy and sure   hands sliding over the walls by habit   his shadow on the hallway … More HE WAS HOME

MY FATHER

He was a mountain of few words a river flowing through the house, mostly out. Conversations were awkward creating uncomfortable moments, too many to count. His love was his work a place he escaped to without guilt of leaving those behind, considering it his duty; I knew he would rather be somewhere else. He grew … More MY FATHER

BLACKBIRDS

on a dirt road of my father, and his father, with winds in my pocket and shiftless turns   the unknown before and after walking under elephant boughs past ancient bark and lilacs between angles of sun and shade stepping over boundaries past stonewalls in disrepair   black birds break silence sheltering in treetops, watching, … More BLACKBIRDS

MY FATHER

He was a mountain of few words a river flowing through the house, mostly out. Conversations were awkward creating uncomfortable moments, too many to count. His love was his work a place he escaped to without guilt of leaving those behind, considering it his duty; I knew he would rather be somewhere else. He grew … More MY FATHER

STANDING STRENGTH

My pen delights me, stirring within the cast of granite to speak of a father I knew, raising children; three meteors rising. He was humility possessing deep waters overlooking faults and premises of promises, drowning out failed expectations avoiding anger while entertaining uprightness. He was solid with love caring for the blood of his blood … More STANDING STRENGTH

MY FATHER

He was a mountain of few words a river flowing through the house, mostly out. Conversations were awkward creating uncomfortable moments, too many to count. His love was his work a place he escaped to without guilt of leaving those behind, considering it his duty; I knew he would rather be somewhere else. He grew … More MY FATHER

CRESTED LIZARD

It’s a song for the night.  The slow creep of a high tide as the last car heads for the next town.  Wayside diners and broken hearts gather on empty at a desert gas station.  Someone reads The Howl out loud; it’s the fear and the dreams we live up to.  Steel mills steam alive … More CRESTED LIZARD