Poetry
For My Friend Who Told Me Don’t Celebrate The Dead
how can I tell him that every day I see her smiling in her coral blouse, her matching lipstick, …
Body and Mind
how can I tell him that every day I see her smiling in her coral blouse, her matching lipstick, …
I’m a new face in the therapy group. My wife’s ultimatum drove us here tonight. A…
Someone has died. Someone I loved the way I love my own hands. And I am alive in the bright, fading day, flying above the earth and sea.
The real question is: How sturdy and solid is the floor our civilization stands on? How many lives with no prospects, shattered and senseless, can it bear the weight of before it cracks?
I imagine them sending me to live with a family that is not my own. I have protected my parents for as long as I’ve been alive. If someone comes after them, I have teeth.
Running is better for me than church; better than counseling, pills, or meditation; better than diet plans or twelve-step meetings. Running keeps me literally on the straight and narrow.
Sometimes the horses grazing in the nearby pastures come to the fence and we talk. Or I do,…
Put a bald truck tire in the top of a cypress tree in Florida and soon an osprey will arrive to …
You had the face of a man who couldn’t help understanding everything — all of it, the whole pathetic, tragic human thing — and that draws people in. To me you were a magnet of kindness.
It seems she was surprised to hear from me. “Marion,” she wrote back a week later, “I kinda liked you when I met you, and then I learned to love you, but now you’re just the skank that fucked my man when I was struggling to make a family.”
