Friday, July 15, 2011


Gray stones stand sentinel in ordered row
words carved in sharp relief, or by time worn
old missives by these primal rocks are borne
enduring rank on rank for us to know.
Stone messages arranged so long ago
from earth’s hot heart these granite tomes were torn
cold words that in the heat of passion were born
tarry for us in a mute tableau.

Phrase arranged in rigid form remains,
where passing time has passion’s context shorn,
pale specters of the furor gone before.
Mute testimony to eternal chains
mortality a fate we cannot scorn
restraining every heart’s attempt to soar.


Saturday, July 9, 2011

On the Road

Earthworms on the pavement
Crawling, inching, dragging
In long straight lines
Towards a destination they cannot know
Is just the same as the one they've left
Dreaming of cool soft comfort
Oblivious to dangers winging above
As time's heated passage exsiccates their lives
How many will be quick enough
To reach earthworm Nirvanna?
While countless others remain
Mute and mummified testimony
To desiccated dreams

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Dixon Number Two Blues

I broke my pencil
So sad, but true
I broke my pencil
Though it was new
So now, sans pencil
I bid adieu
To homework

Emily and Dad, 10/18/05

Monday, July 4, 2011


few       are
left,        to         all
appearances intact and  in
truth    the    better    for       this
betrayal.   It    will    draw    us     together.

Summer ‘04

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Delete the schema

Delete the schema

Tell me, shall we shed a tear
for departed colleagues dear
or not so near to our heart?
Let us wave as they depart,
we continue to our fate,
in the end they did not rate.