the buck moon

I’m so very thrilled that a new poem of mine, the buck moon, was included in this wonderful magazine!
Into the Void, is available in both print and digital form.

Included in ‘Nine New Lit Mags You Need to Read’ as one of “nine new journals that appeared on the scene within the past couple of years and have already made their mark on the literary landscape” in the November/December 2016 Issue of Poets & Writers.”

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by myself

I am trapped in an intolerable sameness
My mind, a weapon firing the same bullet over and over–
killing everything I wake for each day
Trapped in life’s jungle, a purgatory for lost hunters–
those who know where they should be perched–
but can never climb high enough
Earth hardens me, heaven humbles me
Trapped in between, I stare down at God and up at the devil
So much transpires, lustful living chokes out the meek
Promises break, chambers are emptied
Nothing springs back, nothing returns–

nothing, until him
His disarming gunmetal eyes–a grey so pure–
he surely has stolen pigment from Saturn’s rings
My weakest points give way to his bare arms
He becomes what I had prayed for
My spirit rekindles, like a weary grizzly in heat
Freed, my slumbering heart rises from its hibernation
His words turn my winter breath into spring air
Every moving part of his powerful anatomy, targets me–
He parlays brilliant charm and overtakes my trust

Sometime later, the camouflage fades
The sun breaks through the dense canopy
I observe him from a new position–
watching while he is unaware
My mind returns to restless oblivion
There is, I will admit here, a sense of comfort in the chaos
Around me, the entire world stampedes in unison
And I know I can survive by myself

leopard

leopard

 

dying brilliance

used up leaves feather autumn’s nest
brilliance dying of pigmentation aflame
trees let go, releasing themselves in sexless slumber
I see you sitting there by the emptied benches
echoing laughter turned vagrant summer memories
this park, a memorial forgotten once more
until half-masted flags fly
a lifetime from now
confounded insects remain idealistic in cold shrinking shadows
they go unnoticed by you 
carved into a wooden back someone’s footprint, missteps of love
you and I will be used up during our autumn
I wonder if we shall tire of ourselves
as the trees tire of their dying brilliance

Autumn Leaves

Autumn Leaves

I seem to be on a nature word path this week, not sure how long it will go on
art created a year or so go, previously published

I remember now

can’t remember the last time I was in love with earth
witnessing her miraculous gifts
appreciating silent nature
rather than absorbing pixel and pen minutia

stunning my drowsy eyes was this unexpected moment
4:20 am
it was the moon I needed to touch
his large, low gloriously warm pulse in lusty azure
barely cloaked in the fading veil of night
the taffy-stretched shadow of a red sunset maple
stretched across the dark grass
as if she too, desired infinite perfection
stars tucked away in their opaque shells for another night
this was the moon’s moment
my moment
with him
I stood frozen
immobile
and not for the frost assaulting the holes of old moccasins
I peeked through my eyelashes to capture his light
to practice this magic in my mind
committing him to memory
and why I have the good fortune to breathe
etching my soul with our rehearsed minutes
before anxious society attempts to rub my magic out
racing on all compass lines
4:35 am
I remain in the exact same spot
craving forever
knowing the sun will wipe him away
my beautiful moon

wish I could tell you
4:20 am
brilliant gentle fingering rays
enticed me from my lazy bed
the dark truth
4:20 am
my Dachshund needed to urinate

I remember now–
I’m honestly in love with earth

Praying Wizard

Praying Wizard

virgin voyeurs of earth

out the kitchen window
frenetic tenants
little prodigious noise makers
mustering their gumption
marshaling silken feathers
willing to tap the sky
drum wing beats on blues wind
a small hole
window to the world
a movie trailer sans surround sound
until this moment
and here I am cursing under my breath
gotta get on that damn elliptical
freakin’ pushups
then chauffeur
a carload of young men
shop the mall with a teenager
I want to draw, have to write
shit
the birdlets
damn, look at them
eyeing the planet for the first time
virgin voyeurs of earth
number one
the leap
fluttering onto the pooped deck
hopping like a freak club dancer
next
halfway out
shit, I’m wasting time
but how often
do you bear witness
to life’s entrance
I glue my antsy feet
watching
c’mon two
I’m egging her on
there she goes
crap
lands on the glass table
a venerable Rockefeller skater
those twig legs glide on sandy ice
whoosh
she’s gone
hop, skip, jumped onto a nearby tree
the little crapper on the pooped deck follows her lead
two new babies shaking up the leafy world
the third
hanging with its mouth agape crying for more food
time check
okay, I watched
I satiated my mother guilt observing the little miracle
I know I can write about this later, good for something
no more action coming from the hole
show is over
two newbies out to rock terra firma
I wonder how the fourth would have grown
a few days ago
I picked up a little broken body off the table top
she was not a skater
maybe a dreamer
well, I don’t want to think about this anymore
there is an elliptical that must be dealt with
pushups to be cursed through
a giant son and equally large friends to bring places
a daughter to shop with
and
there is a small window
a place
a baby might look through
before
crashing the world party

red-crested woodpecker

red-crested woodpecker

songs of silences

deformed putty pink

robbed of warm breath

contorted sweet necks
tar bubble eyes bulging

frail unfeathered waxy torn

foiled unsung tiny raptors

never will gush
broad kite wings against the wind

meander upon the thermals

dead
before
winter’s white bone chanced a kill
stuffed down bright 
spring’s dark bosom

stalks cradled
strapped with dried fall grass

gentle summer kisses will not carry
overlapping notes 
sung in threes

new harmonies in pubescent throats

echoing from fresh limb to sailing cloud

undeveloped triplets all

delicate melodies
small and quieted

in the driveway
sad little chicks

stilled
 baby birds
in her songs of silences
nature candidly reminds us

she is both
judge and jury
warblerI wish this piece wasn’t here or anywhere else – but I hope it serves as a eulogy
for those baby birds – may they fly in eternal peace

art created last year for an illustrated project

Miss Direction

Put your trust in the sky
she’s old and has been around
covering the world since inception
Put your faith in the sun
he’s a gentleman who
lives to share his warmth
Put your love under the moon
she will protect your dreams
and all who enter them
Put your human in your hands
let’s give ourselves
a fighting chance
Put your soul in your heart
fighting is for love
not war
Cloven with HeartI’ve shown Cloven several times now, she’s one of my favorites
Sometimes we humans can learn much from our brother and sister
animal friends, if we’d only follow their directions

falling

spectacular glow against the robust purple grey sky
leaves spiraling in wind directing thin branches to bow
unreal color drenching the landscape
but what am I seeing
not glorious
scratched pencil lines and spinning circles
into ovals with broad maws and wild fur
sharp orbs and blocky nostrils
I’m hearing too many voices
the wind is a sailing eraser
the wall

Art Wall 1Art Wall 2Art Wall 3Art Wall 5Art Wall 6Art Wall 7Art Wall 8Art Wall 4RHinopaper falling like leaves
when
almost home I look up through a tree
these
these are the falling papers
this is the wind
this is what I need to remember
this is why
I have eyes
autumnsketches done for students to demo different animals…
picture taken when I returned home from subbing
while standing in my driveway looking up

rock hiding

have you ever tried hiding beneath a large rock
it’s not easy
crawling under a sizable boulder – nearly impossible
use the sledge hammer
you should’ve used before
to smash the rock you don’t fit under
gather the fragments
lob them with abandon
mindlessly throwing crap is liberating

whenever you’re low enough
to slide beneath a large rock
imagine its terrific mass
smashed
every fragment heaved
liberate your heavy soul
collect your heaving breath
there are not enough large rocks in the world
to crush your spirit

but there is a toasty slice of shale
to relax upon

Whale/WolverineIn the animal world, not too many animals can trump the spirit of the wolverine. A 45-pound wolverine can take down a 1,200-pound moose in deep snow. Sadly, as powerful as the wolverines are, they are endangered and need help as do so many other species. Illustrations done awhile back

Top illustration: Bigfoot, also done a few months back

past echoes

There is an oddness in the distance
faceless voices
disappearing 
between the rush of cars
Years ago, it would have been a herd of cattle

running for the lunch bell
on the road
, past my house

I sit on the front porch
perched on a yellow plastic Adirondack chair
drinking wine from a tumbler
pretending it’s a brown bag
and fantasizing I don’t have to work

Those faraway voices 
echo now
like dairy farmers’ spirits
loading Bessie’s milk onto Old Erie railroad cars
bound for the city

Retired sounds 
I imagine floating up
to the sun that once fed the cows golden grass

The birds, the flitty ones
with bright yellow bellies like my chair
flutter by my porch

saying their good nights or goodbyes
depending on how cold
this early autumn eve turns

warbler