another little piece of me is gone
surrendered to time
when I was asleep, I was six again
with the world a bright, sunshiny place
when poetry met me in a field near the school
but when I awoke
it was so dark in my room
no stars or moon
and I was old, beyond my own reckoning
but I still had words
to describe and comfort
so when I fell asleep again I was seventeen
on the cusp of a bigger world
with more people and places
and words faded as I soaked in the city
when I turned around I was twenty-eight
with my own walls closing me in
there were few words as I made a family
but again at thirty-nine the words bowled me over
as I saw a field like when I was six
I began to write
hoping to capture the feelings
so when I’m ninety-nine I’ll remember
my dreams when I’m awake
Rita for a day
feeling like Rita Hayworth
except less tortured today
feeling curvy and sleek
flowing hair
shielding an eye
a curtain boys want to part
smiling wide
quick with a tune
or a dance number
maybe a striptease
but later
feeling the glamour
the old studio system
with life’s details worked out
just waiting for direction
feeling less in-progress and more complete
like a character and not a caricature
I don’t need glasses right now
less harsh reality, more soft focus
personality hiding behind an icon
face made up to hide weariness
woes set aside while the show goes on
pretending there’s no loneliness in crowds
none of that matters today
as I walk and hips sway
with purpose and beauty
with lines meant for artists to devour
feeling a bit like Rita today
Early Morning
crisp air marked by excited breaths
clean slate
a new day
shuffling along the quiet path
spider webs sparkling in dewy grass
such vivid green
found just before leaves change colors
so still, the hills look like a painting
so lush, fruits are ripened and heavy
bold tones from the earth
how small, colorless we would be
without nature’s brush
Tried and True
Tried waiting
Too frustrating
Tried passing the time
Ended up feeling empty
Thought I’d be just fine
That was just a lie
Tried distraction
Reeked of desperation
Tried decadence
Filled me with despair
Thought stripping down to basics
Would help, but no
Tried sharing
Ended up with a cracked heart
Tried defilement
Too much destruction
Thought nobody’d notice
If I tripped the light fantastic
Tried not caring
That was another lie
Late Summer Portrait
gossamer tendrils cascading through the twilight forest canopy
a hush permeates the mist
soft footfalls on the mossy bank
leading to the swiftly moving stream
resting against an old thick tree
breathing in the late summer’s green
birds sing farewells
moths stretch to reap all warmth
the spirit of the wood sighs
capturing the perfect portrait
of a late summer day




