I am a loyal American & this is my CREDO

After getting through the news each morning, I read the Credo taped to my studio wall. This is the America I want my children to have. This is why I protest…why I write letters…

“In a time when labels are weaponized and dissent is recast as danger, I choose to define myself—before others try to do it for me.” —James B. Greenberg
James B. Greenberg’s Credo (James Substack entry, August 5, 2025)


How I’d love others to share Mr. Greenberg’s Credo – to keep us going – to keep us fighting back – to keep us AMERICAN

Something About Balance and Power

I believe Art’s authentic value is held in the heart of the viewer. This large acrylic (5′ x 5′) work was painted decades ago. Over the years, viewers have given me the gift of their unique interpretations of this image.

I know why I painted this image back then, but today, for me, it has come to bear an entirely different meaning – one that I hold in my heart.

Feel free to share your interpretation if you’d like. (I’ll not comment on your thoughts, good or bad – swing away)

I hope you’re managing during this time of… (so many words I want to put here, but we’re being bombarded enough)

Peace,
am

Why We Help One Another

It is with a heavy heart that I update this post.

Holding My Friend to a Promise (originally posted 12/9/24)

For over thirty years my friend Robert Milby has been reading his poetry throughout the Hudson Valley, NYC, Long Island, NJ, PA, and New England. An engaging speaker, Robert has made 1,500 public appearances and has done hundreds of readings, open mics, lectures, presentations, participated in radio commentary and festivals, and has been spotlighted on independent tv shows. Robert has shared his enthusiasm and poetic talents through reading and writing workshops in schools and culture centers and has been a guest poet at higher educational institutions. 

Robert’s numerous works have been included in magazines and anthologies. Add to his stellar resume and his four poetry books, his chapbook, Gothic, Orange was published through the County Historian’s office in 2018. He has been a Kirkus Reviewer, a “Best Poet” winner and a longtime Woodstock Poetry Society member. In 2017, Robert was honored with the title, Poet Laureate of Orange County, NY. His relentless devotion to poetry has never ceased. Until now.

Robert is battling stage IV pancreatic cancer. As a freelance writer, he has been unable to work for the past nine months. I understand this is a difficult time of year to ask for donations, but any amount you’re able to make will help Robert pay for his mounting medical expenses. (Go Fund Me link)

I would have given up reading my work in public, if not for Robert. His dedication and encouragement inspired me to share my own work beyond the written page. A deep-reader and researcher, Robert promised me that he’d share his voluminous knowledge of UFOs over coffee one day. I am holding him to that promise.

Thank you in advance for your generosity. (Go Fund Me link)

But Not Dolores

Dolores

2 new pieces published in Foxglove Journal

Veery excited to announce 2 new poems published in Foxglove Journal!my poem, dogeared inspiration, in FOXGLOVE JOURNAL

I dogeared a page in your book

of inspirational quotes, Volume Two.

The one you keep in the nightstand

on your side of the bed.

 

The bed we never should have bought

with that money. Rather than a bamboo

pillowtop, we should have invested

in help from voices other than our own.

 

When you wake and find I’m not here

fitting into the lump our sleep pattern created

on a mattress supposedly resistant to lumps–

 

If you shuffle to the dog-eared page

of inspirational quotes, Volume Two,

perhaps you’ll figure out why

 

I was inspired to leave.

my poem, dark magic, in FOXGLOVE JOURNAL

s it dark magic that occurs

behind a wet curtain

a blanket of steam       spray cascades down your flesh

is it darker magic still

when your eyes close

 

slight-of-hand for the senses

touch vibrates the clean sudsy silk

no floral bouquet or inattentive perfumes

no phony scent of any kind

unadulterated mist

like morning dreams

pouring over you

awash in clear mercy

 

when the frothing in your head

caresses the patterned tiles

and floats away in shimmering bubbles

 

the spray cuts off

the curtain draws back

the steam dissipates

 

in one breathless moment

the spell ceases

like a heartbeat

evaporates out the window

 

along with your fantasies