In the mountains, at the end of the day,The sun begins to fade away,Its golden…
I remember the mop of blond lighthe wore like a crown& the way my daughters pointed to scratches on my…
This writer self relies on twin pillars of memory & imaginationwhich another day — in the not-self of…
I sometimes go back there, driving downthe streets of my youth, the small housewhere I was married & the old…
Tempest, temptations run amok the satiated tongue,presented in highest fashion until points of desertion,in…
Where is home for you?
Is it a place, a person or maybe a feeling?
How we silence ourselves and mockeach other — it occurred to me as I wasploughing through old paperswhere I found so many…
I want to share a poetic piece that I wrote 2 years ago. It was originally…
So this is the drill when you sayyou know a little astrology -can plant stars in their therapyto make things a little richer -add…