losing my keys

keys lie nestled in my right pocket where they can remind fingers that there are roots to be had connections that cannot so easily be pulled, no matter the direction taken by forgetting feet which ride out strange asphalts, and long grasses, stretches of sky so wide we all lie swallowed by it shadows in … Continue reading losing my keys

down east

it was late November when I drove toward Maine I still hear how the wind tore across the highway, rattling doors and nearly blowing that tired red Buick into the frozen ditch I had second, third - hell sixth thoughts on the other side of the state line, but I kept right on - forward … Continue reading down east

a song of home

song in silvery descent beats in sweet repeats the tug of lodestones, the clamant lure of westward-leading winding winds, I sing the binding beck of springing grove and blooming troves of heather, let the tune renew the sweet enchantments the road has written upon my straying shade, in engaging turns, in immeasurable measure, render the … Continue reading a song of home


in the hollow house the drapes hang empty and vases hold dust where lilacs once were propped by careful fingers that chair has always sat vacant though the only two who knew have gone somewhere on the winds have scattered weeds into the garden where she left rue and forget-me-nots at the time without thinking … Continue reading home

the gypsy

the mind of a wanderer the heart of the road she pulls at the strings of the violin's soul feet beat the earth with the heat of a sun pulse set ablaze by night's primal hum she moves to the keen of sweet gypsy strings hips wrapped in hair like black-feathered wings she careens through … Continue reading the gypsy