a cloud of moths flutter around the bare bulb out back as an evening breeze carries the faintest scent of cut grass through an open bedroom window cracked against an august ... CONTINUED
more recent poems

reflections in the grass
i was once his favorite, not placed on a shelf with the others of my kind, crowded ... CONTINUED

left unsaid
early morning mist, the station shrouded in gray as we wait for a train. she ... CONTINUED

puzzled
i. start with the corners. edged pieces come next, until the void gets ... CONTINUED
my manifesto
I prefer poems that are short and sharp, which flame and spark. Poems that dare to paint VIVID pictures or scenes for your mind’s eye. Unforgettable poems that have something to say, some reason for being. Poems which beat with a passionate, pure heart. Poems that reach for something beyond the mere sounds of words on a printed page (or computer screen). Welcome to my dream…











