• A Body in the Morgue

    Working the front desk

    at the nursing home —

    a part time gig

    helping to buy the eggs

    since this past September.

    I like the title:


    But things are a bit askew

    this weekend.

    There’s a body in the mourge.

    I didn’t expect it to hit me

    so hard.

    I guess the first time for any

    or everything

    is always remarkable.

    Did I explain?

    There’s a body in the mourge.

  • Enlightenment

    Driving with no brakes.

    But let’s take a step back

    and share that once it was

    proposed driving

    with no licence

    was the path.


    Did that, done that.

    Across the county and back.

    26 states in total I think,

    sleeping in a tent

    out the back end

    of a dodge pickup truck.

    At the end of those 5 weeks…

    (I repeated the attempt

    the following year just

    to make sure I wasn’t

    missing something)

    …nothing but overtired

    with a bad case of saddle burn.

    So back to the point.

    Driving with no brakes.

    Stupid. Yes.

    Scary. Yes.

    Exquisite. Yes.

    Especially when you live

    in the mountains.

    The direct route is often


    as you can’t traverse

    downhills that continue

    much more than a quarter mile,

    so a trip to the store for eggs

    might require a path

    that triples your distance.

    What one discovers

    is there really are

    different ways

    to navigate this world.

    Sure, go directly from point

    A to B.

    Or, drive to the corner

    and flip a coin.

    Heads turn right.

    Tails turn left.

    Continue that process

    Until you reach your


    Who needs brakes anyways?

  • Mezzo Mezzo

    Digital Art by Richard Reeve

    It one thing to be a centrist

    and quite another

    to find yourself

    in the middle of the middle

    where all guns point your way

    even though they

    are aimed at the other side.

  • Well, We’re Waiting

    An American Sentence

    Anytime now, though we’ve lost all confidence you’re paying attention.

  • Little Things

    In the deepest dark

    of night, who am I

    to complain

    if the only comfort

    a blanket,

    adjusted so,

    to keep the shivering

    at bay.

  • Don’t Forget Your Blinders

    It’s some sage advice

    found in the Medusa story,

    but elsewhere for sure.

    Never look into the eyes

    of the godhead, unless invited.

    Even then, beware.

  • Long Shadows at Winter’s End

    It warmed enough for water

    to liquify again and

    drip from the eaves,

    even if a down vest and boots

    still the smart way to tromp about

    when taking out the trash

    and retrieving the mail.

    What are we spinning into

    when we dive under the covers

    each night only to find dreams taste

    more satisfying than our daily fare?

    (I’m not asking for an answer—

    questions floated and forgotten

    one way to leave winter behind,

    like crossing the zig zag bridges

    found in some Japanese gardens,

    a side stepping to throw

    demons off our trail.)

  • Somewhere Out There

    Can a tear be heard?

    Does it matter?




  • Late Winter Symphony

    Nothing else to say…

  • The Willowemoc

    An American Sentence

    Recurring floods set the river’s name: the kettle that cleanses itself.