Author: admin

Poets wax on about the moon, my delight wanes. I was taken by its various hues when full: pink moon, harvest moon, flower moon that emerged from pines to unfurl its moon-wake on water. I’ve fawned over crescent moons hung...

My daughter and her husband get off work, quarantine for 14 days, son and grandson as well. My husband and I shelter alone. We all drive hours and hours toward each other. I sanitize, set up the condo kitchen. My daughter...

You scrape your knee, a small cut, but now a boy who misses his mom, and the men aren’t having it. I drop my book, as you knew I would, only woman, only sympathizer in our home. I scoop you up, as you knew I would, carry you to...

I’m on Machu Picchu among three thousand tourists, traveling with you, who struggles to define devotion. Or so it seems. A woman in black tights and high-heeled hiking boots sashays across the ruins, smartphone held aloft,...

I wake up with a fish tail. It’s not green, like in a painting, but iridescent, multicolored. My fins spark light like laser beams, on either side of me. I’m a fine specimen. I jump in the river and propel my body in undulating...

He looked like a Franciscan monk Who had lived with Robin Hood’s merry men. Resting linked hands atop a fulsome belly, His body almost completely filling The very comfortable armchair, Rolling his Santa head from side to...

The rain doesn’t wash me clean. It chills my bones as I walk alone on these cold, homeless streets. The snow’s not a blanket of white but shrouds me in its icy sheet on these bleak, winter streets. I need a home, somewhere I...

my father was a book he wrote a great success story from produce clerk to obstetrician a gallant D-Day soldier patching up shattered warriors in a Paris hospital a husband, a father, a son, a brother all things to all who knew...

“Science is truth.” – Dr. Anthony Fauci, Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases “Science isn’t truth, God is,” – William Franklin Graham III, President and CEO of Samaritan’s Purse and the...

for John Lewis 1940-2020 I They rode out of the dark end of fifties America through Eisenhower’s departing mouth and squashed Jim Crow beneath the wheels of their Greyhound buses. Brave pioneers crossing a new frontier, they...

Bursting like blossoms After the first good rain In seven years, Tiny leaves grace A thousand slender branches. Like jade-wreathed fingers They stroke morning’s golden palm, Then stretch toward a new moon fleeing west – A...

You’re fired, kid. But these bus carts are decrepit! The wheels stick On every bump And it was crowded, too – A girl stepped in front of me, The one in the yellow bikini. Yellow bikini; right. Besides, the snack bar didn’t...