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)  

There are not two sides to a story

it’s only an excuse, can’t you see?

A way of withholding information, along the lines

of the data tree.

There are not two sides to a story,

for only the weak feel the need to control

to make something flat and two-sided

when it is really a three-dimensional role.

Published in: on October 23, 2013 at 12:56 pm  Leave a Comment  
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oh, well.

I thought…

Published in: on October 20, 2013 at 12:16 am  Leave a Comment  

Mourning for what

isn’t, and never has been.

Looking outward when the pain

is all within.

Mourning for what

didn’t happen, the reasons

never clear.

Mourning moving on when

the time and space

draws near.

Published in: on October 9, 2013 at 12:43 pm  Leave a Comment  

My stomach aches,

My head, it pounds.

I wish to stretch out,

Preferably underground.

Energy depleted,

News has no gain.

But call me later,

When I’m no longer in pain.

Published in: on October 6, 2013 at 11:13 am  Leave a Comment  
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Why would you allow

me to be left holding the bag?

Is there a secret in the bag?

the shopping bag,

scrunched and flattened

worn out and over used…

why would you walk away and

say nothing of the crinkling sound

trying to escape

from the held bag?

What all is really said,

when the bag is finally opened…

Published in: on September 29, 2013 at 7:35 pm  Leave a Comment  
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So, what was it

that you needed to learn?

Did it come easily, or

was your mind difficult to turn?

I meant to ask, but

it passed me by.

What was it, I’m asking

and then you can ask me…why.

So, what was it that you needed to learn?

Did you have a good teacher, or

did you feel spurned?

What was it that you needed to learn.

I hope it was all you needed,

when you needed…

Published in: on September 17, 2013 at 9:08 pm  Comments (1)  
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Take a new breath,

air hissing though the

punctures of life,

escaping to create a

dissonance of melody,

A new breath replacing

old with movement out

to allow the necessary


Published in: on September 7, 2013 at 2:26 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Death notice for the Clinton Daily Democrat

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAGloria (Catherine) Dorsett passed away on February 23, 2013 in Olathe, Kansas at 95 years of age.  She was born on December 4, 1917 in Kansas City, MO to Francis and Edna (Honn) Duckworth, the third of six children.  Catherine spent early summers in Garland, MO as part of the extended Honn family.  She attended Grammar School in Northeast Kansas City, as well as Jane Hayes Gates School for Girls.

Catherine married the late Jack Dorsett on August 25, 1936 in Clinton, MO.  During WWII, Catherine (as well as her mother and sisters) went to work in the shipyards in Oakland, CA while Jack was stationed in Europe.  Jack and Catherine also lived in Independence, MO, Blue Springs, MO and Topeka, KS before moving to the Clinton in the 1970’s.  While operating a State Licensed Boarding Home for the Aged, Catherine was also the Director of the Community Development Block Grant program in Clinton.

Since Catherine left school at age 15 to help support her family during the Depression, she earned her GED at age 75 and worked for the State of Kansas until she was 85.

Catherine is survived by two children, Marc (Gloria) Dorsett, Olathe KS, Gloria (Mike) Hanrahan, Anchorage, Alaska.  Six grandchildren, Matthew Dorsett, Laura Fluke, Michael Dorsett, Jack, Kimber and Keelin Hanrahan as well as seven great-grandchildren.

Interment was with her husband, Jack, in the Ft. Leavenworth National Cemetery in Leavenworth, KS.

Published in: on August 28, 2013 at 10:14 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Hey you!

it’s the first day of school!

IMG_0019Kim, 11th grade

East Anchorage High School

photoKeelin, 8th grade

Anchor Lutheran

August 21, 2013


Published in: on August 21, 2013 at 4:38 pm  Leave a Comment  






Even if only


Published in: on August 20, 2013 at 7:28 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Too long a solitude

with an empty echo for a refrain

Waiting for an answer,

waiting to begin again.

Too long a solitude,

with no end of the road in sight

only coming and going

in both directions

fills the long and lonely night.

Published in: on August 17, 2013 at 4:49 am  Leave a Comment  

Rules, rules, rules


Published in: on August 10, 2013 at 11:38 pm  Leave a Comment  
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