
’tis a strange thing having everything. All you could ever want in the palm of your hand. So easy to discern this many moons later. So easy to mourn this that time should have faded. The past is alluring, I will give it that. Some mistakes seem not forgiven.
“passing through” 3/20/18
a phantom
a ghost
in the intersection
of some metropolis
the world swirls around
people move on by
crosswalks alive (in between lights)
in the middle of all the commotion
eyes of somber calm
am I
standing there
waiting for a change
brush in hand
with no paint.
waiting
“new spring” 3/20/2018
leaves still absent
from winter’s harvest
a cold chill still clings even easter sunday
nests in trees
but none for me
for this cardinal has no mate.
a flash of red
backdrop of gray
light is fading
the night is approaching
even in the face of spring
“untitled” 3/20/2018
I think I saw a dog
in the lines of bark in a tree
dusk does trick the eyes,
is that a man or a mailbox
leaning in the distance
“untitled” 3/20/2018
fog strangles the parkway
silhouettes serene barely cast shadows
side by side fireflies glow
gliding by row by row
Music choice of the moment … Dramarama “Anything Anything (live)”… thanks to my Rutgers roommate Neil, hope you are doing well out there







I wonder sometimes if I am being honest as the words sort of come to me whole cloth. Can I be truly honest with ideas flowing through this big coffee filter of a head ? I suppose I have not tried to lie with poetry, that might be a challenge to embark on. How would one go about that anyway? Something to ponder on a Friday morning (in the northeast US anyway). So in lieu of the topic I just expounded about, here are a couple of unrelated poems from early 2018. As usual thoughts, comments and bearer bonds are all appreciated.