•January 22, 2019 • Leave a Comment

An alchemic fire
Crucial creation, before
That it fucking burns


Painting: Overcome, by Carne Griffiths

Little Deaths

•January 22, 2019 • Leave a Comment

There were moments
I thought
I might die
From the pain
Of betrayal
Of sensing
Was close
When I was not
It was not mine
It was
Her name on a screen
My kid knowing
Before I did
Me knowing
Before my kid
Who knew
I did
From ice skates
And wake-up calls
Fuzzy time
Lines crossed
Fluffy language
Dressing up hard truths
Like soft lies
Shared accounts
And speakers and trips
Inappropriate giving
Of gifts
For occasions
When shared celebration
Should not have been
A means to end
A woman knows
Did they
How many
Were taken
With more behind them
Too many moments
Of your
Of our
Lives like years
Felt like deaths
To me
And yet I did not die
Did I
Only we
And my family
I am right here
With my perception
Perhaps partial
To my own heart



Painting: The Little Death by Lori Field


•January 21, 2019 • Leave a Comment

I sat with and watched
That last flick of ember
Warm ash gasping for life
I mourned it as it flashed
From spark to nothing black

Then I sat in evening awe
When I saw it claw quick
Back to light and oxygen
Again I witnessed wanting
In that dying fight to learn its trick


Painting: Lady by the Fireplace by Gustav Klimt

Reworked and reposted, originally written years ago. But I had another inspired moment by the fire. It is a friend these days, and every time its dying moves me.


•January 20, 2019 • Leave a Comment

There are western waves
Like slow rolling sadness
That churn and make
Their way to me
As careful creeping foam
The leading edge
Of a gentle bay for brining me
I am pieces of shattered shell
I am porous and pointy
I am littered with slick
Unspoken spikes
I am not yet ground smooth
Or cleared complete by hand
Or time
I am not like those others
More popular and pleasing
Compacted sandy eastern coasts
I can hurt uncalloused heels
Wear your shoes please
When you walk on me
Gather up my pretty parts
The seemingly whole shards
If you will for your collection
But pay attention
There are craters along my shore
Lines and tiny fractures
In the bulk of me
Where air resides in spaces
Between pieces yet unseen
To shift and twist and break
An unassuming speedy ankle
Yet if you might pause
A quiet moment, sit with me
Put your bucket down
I think you’ll see
Those spaces also cradle
Warm and teaming tide pools
A lineage of anceint life
Left in me by that crying sea


Morning Haze

•January 20, 2019 • Leave a Comment

There are ghosts that stay
Put like ancient trees rooted
Limbs shrouded in fog


Photography: Arbor by Julie-rc on


•January 16, 2019 • Leave a Comment

Death without a corpse
Funeral no one attends
Spirit without rest

Haiku in search of
Metered peace and closure


Photo by Marta Orlowska


•January 13, 2019 • 4 Comments

There sits a bench
Beyond my bathroom glass
Which bears the building weight
Of time
I’ve witnessed years
And harried animals
Use it for rest and pass
Right by
What once was sure
And sturdy sanded smooth
Has faltered splintered with
Me now
Its fair recline
Beneath that tree reminds
That we remain both
Burial bound


Photo through my bathroom glass, by me.

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