top of page



Sweet and tasty

Every nation gets a slice

Like it was a layer cake

Children lick frosting crust


Every birthday

The candles get shorter

Only so much to go around

They burn dirty like oil rigs

Like Molotov Cocktails


Nightfall at the gas pump

A lone water tower

Across the desert

Where the foothills slump


Sky red velvet blood, charcoal smear

Rorschach clouds

Dot above power lines


The party is over

Wicks expended liquid

Pooled then congealed


Approaching winter

Billionaires in orbit

My tank begs for filling



The days descend

Drop one by one

Twirl with every breath

Die at my feet


In brittle shrivel

Their colors fade

Pile on one another

Earth’s sweet decay



Blanket my base

Each passing season

Roots blind dark search

Finger wrap deep set stones


Gone are the days

Of sun and rain

Opulent greenery

Sap flowing easy


This soil is rich

Of all that went before

Bark, thicker skinned

Rings accrue


Bare branches

Creak in wind chill

Ice storms cruel winter coat

Snaps high boughs


I stand fixed

In Earth’s eternal hum

Anchored in descent



Late winter

She pumped my gas

Thermal underwear top

Flannel shirt for a second layer

Jean jacket for the third


Under wool cap

Curly hair running wild

Cheeks and nose ruddy

From damp cold wind


I could tell she liked me

Always had a smile

Back then I mostly pondered

What it would be like


To settle down, a lake cottage

Sustained by our simple jobs

Wood stove,

Some shared TV show

To talk about

Wait for better weather


Back then

All I did was ponder

Imagine what it might be

To live without ambition

To settle, settle in

Exist like a buck in the woods

Roots and dried berries

In lean months

Wary of a snapped twig

Little cover

After the leaves dropped


She was a contented doe

Never wanting much

Satisfaction in survival

Escape the bow and arrow

Ignore approaching headlights


My restless soul

Searched for more

Beyond a paycheck,

Weekly favorite TV show,

Splitting wood on the first frost


She later became a butcher

In the local market

Apron smeared with blood

Wild hair piled high in fishnet

Like it was hauled in

From a deep sea trawl


She, always smiling

As I pondered years away

Tapping and scrawling

Searching for more than she cared to find


I took long to learn to live

Without answers or destinations

The woods will always be the woods

Deep and still

In green

And frail seasons

bottom of page