The birds ate my fairys…

leaving devastation


Hurricane forces,


the secret places

where they stay.

Standing empty now

with no future looking outward.

The silent ones

taken and used.

Is it time to pick up

and go find them again?

To fix that broken part

and make it stronger


next time.


Prehistoric resemblance




Terrain charted and unrelenting

In passages forward

while going nowhere.

Unmoving with directives unchanged.

Small changes would make the

biggest differences,


Remaining a dinosaur

is all she knows

How to be.


Anchorage museum

Mastodon exhibit

The accoutrements


Representing  pain.

Growth in an underbrush


aluminum and plastic with

tight-fitting healing.

Knowing that if I had just held on,

the Statistics of loss

would not be so




Just there

off to my right.silent and daring

reflections of might.

Only tonight.

Published in: on March 19, 2011 at 7:36 am  Comments (2)  
Tags: ,

A Webelo no more

Big brother gives Little brother his Boy Scout kerchief

for the transition from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts.

March 17th, 2011

Tudor Elementary

Anchorage, Alaska

Published in: on March 19, 2011 at 7:32 am  Comments (2)  
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I had set it aside,

Really, I had.

Time to move on and spread a new ripple.

Sunlight replaced with shade trees,

Cedar siding for blue aluminum.

Mountain views exchanged for a room of my own,

tucked up under the eaves, and walking out of a tree house.

Swimming upstream, forming new bonds.

Always being knocked off-center with

Demands that couldn’t be met.

I’m sick I say… I think I say

Since I could no longer think.

Lamaze breathing on the drive to work,

worse than any labor because it would not end.

and…I just stop.  Stop.  One.  Day.

I can no longer put one foot in front of the other.

I can no longer speak.

Months go by and I can begin to look again…

but what do I see?

What do I feel?

Will I learn new ways to be what I was?

The damage is done

Yet continues because the force has not been enough

to change the inertia.

The force where other children are hurt

Other families are injured.

and each classroom is an island.

And each island is either a safe island


an unsafe island.

And if you are on an unsafe island, you will not be allowed to



art is Crank Whimsy

Rogers Park Elementary

Anchorage, Alaska




You don’t like what I said?

Then just bite me.

You don’t like that I heard what you said?

Then just bite me.

You don’t like what I do?

Then just bite me.

And as you eat away,

trying to gnaw to bone,

Choking on the flavor of truth,

Just remember.

No matter how often you

Bite me.

I lose





art from the children’s section of the

Loussac Library

Anchorage, Alaska


small pieces, now when ripped apart

retain their meaning, no matter how many pieces remain.

the edges become ragged, softer and don’t cut so quickly

yet, they continue to say the same.

no matter how many tears happen

there is no love,

without a demonstration of love,

which can be seen

along the edges of time.

Published in: on March 6, 2011 at 3:30 am  Comments (17)  
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Will it go round in circles?

curving along those special lines.

We go round and round.

First the


Just a partial curve,

Practicing for the next installment.

Moving on to


Sensuous curves of completion.

Complementing the


But unfulfilled without



I don’t see equality…

I am not sure I tried before.

Like many around me,

I assumed…

Life was fair…

People cared for others…

Leaders would put children first…

Public education meant equal opportunity.

I opened a door to walk in,

And could sense the energy bend.

Unequal defended

on unspoken agreement…

Let go?

Who will speak up?




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