• Poems

    POEM: “Mission Statement”

    ‘To scratch the page,/ to pick the scab, / to mix and match the phrases, / enter the lab and whip up potions, / address the sky with curses, praises, / annoy the authorities, cause commotions …’

  • Poems

    POEM: “Earth Mother Lullaby”

    Wrinkle-skinned earth mothers from / another decade, a far more interesting decade they profess, / nest live orchids in tangled-up hair, / black-cotton gloves rising past thin wrists ...

  • Poems

    Sunlight & Coffee

    I want to run and embrace/ this tulip-yellow light. But/ where? Where do I stand and/ meet it all? Face to face with/ beauty bigger than myself, I / quail ...

  • Essays,  Poems

    POEM: “Stephen”

    Where have you gone, Stephen?/ Now, this night that I need you./ Need just you, the gravitas/ of your bulldog self. Your ancient/ belief in me. Rather, a belief that dates/ to 1977 or so./ Ancient enough …

  • Poems

    POEM: 10,000 Thunderstorms

    If I'm to be an insomniac, a fine thunderstorm is a welcome thing. To entertain. To relish and divert from mournful or misbegotten thought. I ponder 
getting up. Going to my front porch, storm-sitting perch.

  • Essays,  Poems

    POEM: “Window No. 1”

    One of my earliest, notable windows was in the basement bedroom I shared with 
brother Rick. It opened to the left, sliding open with a satisfying 'chonk!' Revealing the level grass of our backyard.

  • Essays,  Poems

    POEM | “My Paragraph & I”

    'I want my paragraph to strut, carved cane in hand, the Left Bank, like a proper boulevardier. I want my paragraph to wow you. leave you wanting more. To, if possible, make you gasp. To make you—prose willing—cry. And then, to laugh. And then to laugh at your crying ...'

  • Essays,  Poems

    POEM | “Body of Evidence”

    'I'd no excuse not to grok the fact, or traffic in illusions of not growing old. Or denial of encroaching senescence. Or flipping the bird at Mister Death. It would halt nothing of my body's fade, of our decay. I was, perhaps, whistling past my future graveyard.'

  • Poems

    POEM | “Nous Celeron”

    'Don’t you, Nous Céleron,/wish to lay down your arms?/Enter the Ohio’s cool darkness,/or the Chinodahichetha!/Sounding out each syllable/as a Wyandotte/might utter them .../

  • Photo Essay,  Poems

    PORCH POEMS: ‘Ms. Nature & Mr. Death’

    So, my day, which when fortunate,/begins with coffee, cat, and dawn,/shifts at some point, to the deck, for some sitting beneath the same old sky,/only this time, eyes closed./Climbed up on the shore, out of thetumultuous stream of thought./I’ve yet to grasp the meaning/of your collaboration, Ms. Nature,/with your ally, Mr. Death.

  • Poems

    PORCH POEMS: ‘Overhead’

    ‘The clouds don’t care,’/ he said. Blowing a puff
/ of cigar smoke at me/ from across the porch.
/ I sent a pretty good
/ smoke ring back his way./ We were not
/ six feet apart, so could/ be killing each other, should
/ the virus hitch a ride upon 
our exhalations ...

  • Profiles

    PAUL: A Chance Encounter

    There's a wheelchair and a guy in it at the end of the sidewalk. It's an old chair, not those fancy Millenium Falcon chairs you see. An old guy, with skin weathered like an ancient saddle...