P.L. 94-142

Child Find
The answer has always been
Child Find

Published in: on April 2, 2014 at 5:56 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Published in: on March 27, 2014 at 6:21 pm  Leave a Comment  

No one

Is bullet proof,
A mother least of all.
False promises etched upon a wall.

Why is it,
While in power
No food is on the tray?
Taking down signs, throwing out pens,
Silencing the voiceless
Without a say.

Hurling anger,
Displaced impotence,
Vicious clutching the illusion
Of control.
The empty gun, the struggle won
And the verdict?

Published in: on March 24, 2014 at 12:44 am  Leave a Comment  

Stupid Me


Published in: on March 18, 2014 at 10:09 am  Leave a Comment  


To a different drummer
One may never understand
The code is not so simple
But may lend a caring hand.

A road with other travelers
On a simultaneous trip
Will appear the same
At different times
’round the bend and hiding in the dip.

Dueling Banjos (HD): http://youtu.be/myhnAZFR1po

Published in: on March 15, 2014 at 9:51 pm  Leave a Comment  


Or did they call him Bill?
Spoken in the King’s English,
a life of metaphors
With which his coffers to fill.

He had so much to say
We have no need to think for ourselves.
The dregs of humanity
Stood wait and lined upon his dusty  shelf.

Old, now dead,
White men crowd out unique thought.
But, given time, he’ll be replaced
Students never knowing he wrote for naught.

Published in: on March 14, 2014 at 9:48 pm  Leave a Comment  


Published in: on March 13, 2014 at 9:19 pm  Leave a Comment  

Long distance


Published in: on March 8, 2014 at 5:48 pm  Leave a Comment  


Published in: on March 7, 2014 at 2:13 pm  Leave a Comment  

Only one

At a time
Acts out the anger
Shoved under the rug
The rest of the time.
Who said, your mother is leaving you
Only leaving the rest of us

Published in: on February 27, 2014 at 10:07 pm  Leave a Comment  

poppy 3


Published in: on February 14, 2014 at 8:08 pm  Leave a Comment  
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I have no gift of patience

now that time in life is short.

I couldn’t see the way ahead

like a ship without a port.

I didn’t want to wait so long

to finally get a clue.

I really expected more from life

and have high expectations of you.

Changes big and small with

confidence turning the key

will open the lock

to where I’ll grow  and bloom

and see the gifts in store for me.



Published in: on February 5, 2014 at 12:30 pm  Leave a Comment  
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I wish for

fruit trees

strawberry fields

all you can eat

you pick it

groundsthe dust of hay

the end of a day

you pick it

barnbubbling steam


turning milk into cream

you pick it

kitchenat the end of the day

in the shade from the

sun’s waning rays

I would like to pick it.

porch swingtraces of old

embedded with new

I would like to pick it

fencegiven just a bit more time

if somehow I could really make it mine

I would pick it.

front of house

Published in: on January 27, 2014 at 6:05 pm  Comments (1)  
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you gotta do what you just gotta do.

The viewpoint expressed is always up to you.

Stand tall and don’t waver

while all beats you down.

Give it time

Give it space

For a new door to walk through.

exitsource Google images

Published in: on January 22, 2014 at 10:45 am  Leave a Comment  
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I was looking

lookingbut I just couldn’t see

what the promise of tomorrow

was really meant to be.


I was looking,

holding on to one small place,

if I peaked around corner

I am sure I would

see the face.

villageI could hear the silent whispers

I could see the blacked out words

and when

I stopped looking

iceit disappeared,


quietly waiting

among the firs.

Published in: on January 1, 2014 at 9:41 pm  Leave a Comment  
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An Alchemy

of thoughts,

into words,

into deeds,

into interactions,

into consequences,

into unknown,

of new thoughts,

into different words,

into new reactions,


Published in: on December 15, 2013 at 10:05 pm  Leave a Comment  

Hell by Sarah Manguso


The second-hardest thing I have to do is not be longing’s slave.

Hell is that. Hell is that, others, having a job, and not having a job. Hell is thinking continually of those who were truly great.

Hell is the moment you realize that you were ignorant of the fact, when it was true, that you were not yet ruined by desire.


The kind of music I want to continue hearing after I am dead is the kind that makes me think I will be capable of hearing it then.


There is music in Hell. Wind of desolation! It blows past the egg-eyed statues. The canopic jars are full of secrets.


The wind blows through me. I open my mouth to speak.


I recite the list of people I have copulated with. It does not take long. I say the names of my imaginary children. I call out four-syllable words beginning with B. This is how I stay alive.


Beelzebub. Brachiosaur. Bubble-headed. I don’t know how I stay alive. What I do know is that there is a light, far above us, that goes out when we die,


and that in Hell there is a gray tulip that grows without any sun. It reminds me of everything I failed at,


and I water it carefully. It is all I have to remind me of you.

Published in: on December 9, 2013 at 8:19 pm  Leave a Comment  

There is no sanctuary

outside of your mind.

There is no place of peace

the thoughts cannot find.

The walls all have ears.

The sky has its eyes.

Deceptive in silence

withdrawn from our cries.

There is no sanctuary

outside of your mind.

There is no place of peace,

the thoughts cannot find.

I can always change my mind

in response to questions asked.

With little time to satisfy

which focus was the past.

Taking off in one dimension

conduit to right now,

To see the flatness in my life


redirect it with a simple plow.



Published in: on November 20, 2013 at 11:26 pm  Comments (2)  
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Published in: on October 25, 2013 at 11:37 am  Comments (1)  

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