A sampling of some of the poetry I’ve written over the years.

depression, explained

 

a price tag

left on the floor

of an abandoned store,

faded paper umbrellas

in a shabby shop,

the plop

of rusty water in a crazed sink,

the slick of grease

on kitchen tile,

the stink

of boxwood after rain, the pain

of a hangnail,

cracked

concrete in an empty pool,

a tattered fairy costume,

the despair

of an orange chair

in a dingy waiting room.

Night Lights

 

Stars blossom

In the rich loam

Of a deepening sky.

You lift your face

To the heavens.

Lower your eyes.

In a dew-tipped meadow

Fireflies dance

Like those suns above.

I will not speak

In the void

And vastness

Of space.

But in the leaf

And hummingbird.

 

Gemma 46

 

It’s difficult to know what’s really mine,

The hands, the hair, all carbons of another,

A double helix split to redefine

The child, a twin to her own mother.

 

The hands, the hair, all carbons of another,

Not one detail missed in fabrication –

The child, a twin to her own mother,

A hostage to eternal obligation.

 

Not one detail missed in fabrication,

But for every moment I draw breath

A hostage to eternal obligation,

A mirror never meant to reflect death.

 

But for every moment I draw breath

I’m something more than you and less than whole,

A mirror never meant to reflect death –

The destiny of every mortal soul.

 

I’m something more than you and less than whole,

A double helix split to redefine

The destiny of every mortal soul –

It’s difficult to know what’s really mine.

 

Firebird

The Phoenix, burdened with centuries of pain

Seeks oblivion. Yet, struggling within,

Defeats itself and flies from its desire,

Rises, reborn — to live, to die, again.

 

Always alone, the Phoenix makes its choice,

Embraces once more the pain that purifies;

Glimpses the future form through present fires,

To create life anew each time it dies.

 

Committed to Memory

The leaves are never silent when they fall

Sound fills the forest, a steady spill of sound

Like water over stone. If you could but hear it

You would understand the trees

Do not let go so easily, do not release

Their hold without a murmur. Neither will I

Release your hand without protest.

You will not leave in silence

When you leave. When you leave

A steady spill of tears will sound

Like water over stone

If you could but hear it.

On the Event Horizon

 

May those brave few who venture in this space

Speed on —

as lucid and as swift as light

from your margins and the enslaving might

of your singularity, your core grace.

For those who have been pulled in your embrace

encounter nullity —

it is their plight

to circle and to spin in endless flight,

trajectories that cross and interlace.

Elusive as the heart of a black hole,

a nothingness that nothing can evade,

your nature is to lure

then thrust aside.

Yet you are doomed to pay the greater toll —

Trapped in a vacuum no one dare invade,

you are the absence born of love denied.