the pegasus clock in ICU15

very excited to have my poem, the pegasus clock in ICU15, appear in this excellent zine!
while you’re there check out fellow poet, Robert Okaji’s prize winning piece, A Further Response from the Hornet’s Nest

The Pegasus Clock in ICU15

such ridiculous tools. as if words could fix a bleeding brain.
preordained fabric dividers meant to separate us if you die.
divert eyes staring at the clock. remember I’d told you the
stories. oversized book. water-washed illustrations. pegasus,
my benevolent savior. the man in golden sandals flies me away.
clouds disconnect from bleached cotton and plastic pillows
sweating the sick. sister mary sometimes foiled my library day
with the winged horse. give someone else a turn annmarie. you
can’t take the book every thursday. blinded by Christian light she
couldn’t comprehend pegasus and me needling defeat between
fetlock and toe. so much tubing here. how many times might it
circle the world?
fall risk wrapped around your wrist. i remember
periwinkle choir robes. living angel singing out with bright lips.
mom, please wake up. Use your words. Use your voice. the
pegasus clock in ICU15 stammers. his magnificent  wings
unfurl. shimmering feathers brush away these hideous blinking
lights and institutional grey floors. fly it all away.

magical words, miraculous changes

it has been said
passed down from yuletide lips
Charles Dickens saved Christmas
not the man, ’twas the book
his story, we all know
if you don’t (your library copy might have gotten jammed in an 1843 chimney)

Industrial Revolution spinning at warp-speed
factory holidays are ghost shadows
we are living in the fast-pacing present–more is better
our dull, simple past soiled with slumming traditions–less was less
one floor above sweating basement workers, the future appears bright and shiny
a young boy’s father gets locked up in debtors’ prison
the child Charles, now forced to labor in a “rat-infested boot-blackening factory”

these formidable memories haunt Dickens

I imagine Charles back then
beneath winter’s moonlight
childhood terrors like bony hands slamming rusted leonine door knockers
he summons these all-too-vivid specters to do battle with his benevolent muse
the war won
A Christmas Carol is born

“…in 1867 Dickens reads A Christmas Carol. One of the audience members,
Mr. Fairbanks (a scale manufacturer) was so moved that he decided to break custom
and give his workers Christmas Day off and not only did he close the factory,
he gave turkeys to all his employees.”

magical words can inspire hearts to make miraculous changes

Little Tree

Little Tree

Charles Dickens, true to his words became an exceptional philanthropist. “…the welfare of the nation’s children was at the top of his list of concerns, and he used his pen and his considerable dramatic and oratorical powers to raise awareness of the plight of poor children and to raise money for children’s charities…”

sources in order of quoted appearance: Uncle John’s, Christmas Collection (yes, the Bathroom Reader, please don’t judge where I sometimes read😉), charlesdickensinfo.com, hharp.org

if my little poetry book love of the monster helps one heart, that would be a gift I’d keep trying to give😘

5 am peaceful, poem published in the Avocet

5 am peaceful

wishing it were contented spirits
dusting the cement grass with glitter
not winter’s freeze

my dachshund’s paw prints
sweet as a postcard
one might send a faraway lover

I linger in the numbing quiet
let the moment warm this blanketed silence
hushed low like swimming beneath water
where despair drowns then floats away
in bubbles and dancing reflections

don’t want to twist the frozen doorknob
and go back inside
I’d love to remain out here
5 am
with the sparkling dust
and all that glitters
in the beauty of this silence
when the world is so peaceful

Rudolph Hug

Rudolph Hug

drawn a few years back with watercolor marker, acrylic, and a dab of prisma pencil

little low, high heeled dude for halloween

be who or what you dream
but just for today;)
top-headthis little guy makes a black and white appearance in my illustrated book of love verse
love of the monster available 12.15.16, maybe sooner:)

Happy Birthday to my beautiful mother, 81 years young today

Homage to Doctor Moreau

“The crying sounded even louder…. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice.”

“For everyone the want is bad. Some want to go tearing with teeth and hands into the roots of things, snuffing into the earth.”

“An animal may be ferocious and cunning enough, but it takes a real man to tell a lie.”
insane lioness singerQuotes from the transformative pen of H.G. Wells, The Island of Doctor Moreau

my creature gal created about 3 weeks ago with no hard-core animalistic intent

eyes piercing

dad-hsback when men were men
silent pain and strong hands
I remember other agents gathering around him at parties
women telling him what a handsome figure he cut
he smiled in his broad shouldered frame of 6’2
eyes piercing as was that deep voice
terrifying as a child
now remarkable
listening to his life stories
mesmerizing in detail, poetic in delivery, exciting in fact
an agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation
as a kid staring up at him
I believed any criminal in my father’s path
immediately surrendered themselves

rather than deal with this larger than life, slice of human
friends called him Bill, the rest–Vito
judicious and fair before earning the law degree
an amazing and prolific career
mafia cases and colorful gangsters
the temper, he still has it
no patience for silliness, but all the time in the world for family
not a day goes by
when I don’t think of him
of the exceptional driving force
his charismatic personality has infused
and continues to…
dad coast guard  dad-shooting rangeHappy 84th Birthday, Dad
dad and mom

shy party dog

shy party dog

top photo – Brooklyn Tech, 2nd – Coast Guard, 3rd – firearms practice, 4th –  my mother-in-law on left, dad center, mom on right

Shy Party Dog created last year for his 83rd B’day 🙂