Wednesday, November 26, 2008


Thank you, friend,
for stopping here;
a welcome voice,
a willing ear

from the dark
beyond the gable,
sitting with me
at the table;

to simple fare
in portions sparing,
finding flavor
in the sharing;

for the kindnesses
you’ve shown,
swapping tales
of your own;

you are a traveler,
I know,
the respite brief
before you go -

the road is wide,
the night is clear -
thank you, friend,
for stopping here.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

"Adrift" by A. Wyeth

We’ve sewn you sails
with our hair,
unfurled, neatly
folded there;
with our blood
we pressed you wine,
that’s worthless now
as casks of brine.

From the clay hearth
of our heart
our bread, for you,
has come apart,
in the sea
like days melt into

So busy with
the lines and arbor
we missed you slip
our quiet harbor;
in a humble
hand-hewn dory,
a modest man
to meet his glory.

Across the cold and
callous deep
beloved, sail;
we only weep
in finding that
we are bereft
but in the wake
your voyage left

our love lights all the
stars that find you,
prayers push steady
winds behind you,
as tempests break
and bow in shame
before the whisper
of your name.

[you can see the painting here.]

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Legends of the Gold Rush

Party of one
at a table for two
checkin’ your watch
but this ain’t nothin’ new
it just means she’s done
you’ve nothin’ left for her
now that you’re broken
and puzzled and poorer

Hard to imagine
her sweet lips could lie,
or that she could leave
without tellin’ you why;
those cornflower eyes
she said were for you
were already searchin’
for somebody new.

From the hungry east they came
rode their poor plow horses lame
drawn out by the tales of wealth
for each man with grit and health

Boomtowns sprang up from the dust
but their promises went bust
many said it served them right
tryin’ to get rich overnight

Ain’t nothin’ you did
ain’t your fault at all
any man with his senses
is destined to fall
and give her whatever
she tells him she needs
and not even notice
the streams that he bleeds

Without word or warning
she’s just off and gone,
your wallet is empty,
your stuff’s on the lawn.
She ain’t comin’ back
but man trust me,
it’s better,
ain’t no heart of gold
in them hills
on her sweater.

From the hungry east they came
rode their poor plow horses lame
all they wanted, all the while
was for Lady Luck to smile

But she’s mighty hard to please
they discovered, on their knees -
many said they should’ve known,
gettin’ spellbound by a stone.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Condensation: 3 Poems


It’s a sultry summer day
got a glass of Tanqueray
rocks and tonic, wedge of lime
I got nothin’, man, but time;

Turning salmon on the grill
squeeze a lemon, little dill
I got mushrooms, wild rice
I got baby greens on ice

I got lilies in a vase
driftin’ fragrance in my face
I got Stan Getz on CD
blowin’ tenor just for me;

Shimmered twilight falling slow
got a lazy onshore flow
I got sweetness on her way
I got nothin’
to say.

Small Starlit Poem

too late for coffee,
too soon for dreams;
a stitch of a moment
on one of time’s seams

Love Letter