The Howling Owl

Giving it our best shot

The Howling Owl (Revised on June 18, 2024)

Love me. Oh, love me.

A poem is not complete until it has been heard.

a poem

To Bury Another

Real peril galvanizes me. It’s fear — not danger — that shuts me down

Poetry of Impermanence

The first time my son and I hit the road on our own

The shirts don’t lie.

One version sat through meetings, the other drifted in the woods

When art goes wrong

like lamb’s tails wriggling

What Remains

It’s OK. Really.

“I give and give; my whole life will be a saying of poems and a loving of people and giving of my best fiber to them” Sylvia Plath

a poem and explanation

We had raced the wind

Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.

sensing the sky