Come, My Love

First published in Edify Fiction, Vol. 3, Issue 4, December, 2019


Come, my love, sit in my lap. I will tell you a story.


Now you are small, so very small, so young and full of hope.

But you will not remain so small. No, my love, you will grow.


You will go to school,

You will work hard,

You will learn many, many things.


You will meet more people than you think possible,

Some of whom you will love,

Some you will not,

Some will fade from your memory,

And some you will never forget.


Some days you will laugh,

And some days you will cry,

And some days you will do both at the same time.


You will face challenges greater than your deepest fear.

But you will overcome, my child.

You will persevere.


You will finish school,

And get a job,

And fall in love.


And you will tie your life to another.


Then, my love, you will have a child.

And that child will be small, so small, so young and full of hope.


You will think of this day.

You’ll recall my arms around you.


And you will say to your little one, “Come, my love, sit in my lap. I will tell you a story.”




A Blessing

First published in Torrid Literature, Volume XXIII: The Write Path; January, 2019

Subsequently published by Oracle Fine Arts Review, December, 2019


When you reach the top of the hill, and it is upward still,

And you can’t seem to see the end,

When the air is thick, and you are sick

Of following in footsteps of every other man,


When cynicism runs rampant through the streets,

And you are lost on tired feet,

When resolution waves against the gale,

The winds have blown, may they not prevail.


When night has come, your day is done,

Nothing but the darkness shines.

When the quietness has laid to rest,

May your peace find its time.


And may your steps be light.

May your soul be bright.

May your feet remember how to dance.

May your eyes be wide,

And may you strive,

And may you stand at the last.



So You Say

First published in Torrid Literature, Vol. 24, July, 2019

So you say I’m guilty,
And I must confess.
But we’re both guilty more or less.
Around now it seems
We should be making up,
But you claim dreams won’t be enough.
Never meant to hurt you,
Love’s a gentle thing.
Didn’t understand you, lost the will to be
Nothing more than a simple man
Living a simple love.
But you claim repentance won’t be enough.



Lighter Days

First published in Writers in the Know, Issue 4, May, 2018


Underneath a full moon, with your eyes of blue,

You reach out with every tear that falls,

And I would hold you until this desert blooms

If you would hear me call.


The stars shine quietly as you confess

To wandering this wilderness.

The weight you’ve carried slowly descends

As you promise to make amends.


The sky is turning red as darkness fades

Into these lighter days.

It’s been years since I felt your touch

Or lost myself within your love.




First published in Over Land and Rising, 9 Bridges Press, 2017




The wrinkled, crinkled edges of

The life you never thought would be your own.

Come out.

No need to hide.

You are not alone.



Ode to the Poppycock

First published in Over Land and Rising, 9 Bridges Press, 2017


Oh, poppycock.

Whatest are thou?

Are thou a poppy and thus a seed

Or be thine nature that of a cock, or barnyard fowl?


Becauseth I know not what thou art

I shall cease my ode

And remove my “Oh,” until such time as the poppycock make itself known.





December Dreams

First published in The Promethean, Volume 13, Issue 2, Spring/Summer 2005


December dreams:
Snow upon the branches;
Shoveled walks;
Three bedroom houses.

A two car garage
and a job in the city.
A hearing next week;
in the meantime no presents to buy.

And a son you don’t know
who’s growing without you;
ex-wife who really can’t care.

A mailbox of millions you’ve already won;
Thousands you’ve already lost.

A hearty man ‘s dinner,
and a hearty man ‘s drink,
and falling to sleep with the TV still on.

Whatever happened when December would dream
of a year so full of promise?

Wherever went the smile you wore
when at midnight the clock would chime?

Whenever left the twinkling eye,
the sparkling smile
the hop in step
and love for life?

Whatever happened when December would dream
of a year so full of promise?

Whatever happened to December dreams?