Selected Poetry

Good Vibrations has nothing on Ashby Plumbing Supplies.
It’s a man’s world in here, from the lengths
of copper tubing suspended in tumescent arcs
to the all-male clientele, hunch-shouldered in dimly lit recesses.
This is a narrative-free zone; the products get straight
to the point: Grrip! commands the label on one shelf,

Kiko and Ikor

Hi Kiko,
It’s September in the year 2016.  I am 75 years old and you are not yet five and a half years old. You’ve just started kindergarten. I pick you up on Tuesdays and we go off to the YMCA for an hour of swimming in a shallow heated pool. You like to dive-bomb off the tiled edge splashing me with a spray of water and laughter twice your size. We also go to the gym where you arrange, climb upon, and jump large leather objects you move about to suit your purposes. They are bigger than you, but you heft them about and play wild for a time.

Time Is Too Much With Us

Urging A Tree To Stand

Never have I asked myself
to help a tree to stand
But this day asked of me
a solemn promise to this land
For everything there is a season,
or so it has been said
And the Earth as Timeʼs keeper,
turns the Fall leaves red
When summer slips away
and welcomes early night
The forest gifts its leaves
so its limbs become light
When this cycle’s interrupted,
trees are force to hold
The weight of early Winter
on each leaf green and gold