I have been writing poetry all year, and posting new poetry as I write it on Scribophile. I have been ignoring the more than 1000 poems I have collected from high school and beyond. Since I have this site, I thought I’d put up a few of these poems every day for a while to let them escape the backs of envelopes, grocery receipts and other odd places where they have been living.

I’ll try to put dates on them, as best I can, to see if I have grown as a poet, or perhaps, regressed. These are from 2005.

The autumn lays down
golden and brown,
ripe as a pumpkin,
taut as a gourd,
sweet like red apples
whispering with wheat.
It ripples, furled with
cooler winds
that toss the seedheads on the ground
and turns
shaking a flock of starlings from the trees
scattering like clothing
a shower of reddened leaves.


I can remember
the way the desk felt
cool and hard,
the back unyielding.
The click of chalk, the ticking clock
the choking white haze
that surrounded the algebra teacher
like a Socratic ghost.

I remember the squeal
of new shoes on linoleum,
when the bell sounded
like the voice of God.
We flew then,
Driven to the open ground
Like rabbits before hounds–
We sought the woods,
the fields,
The feel of earth beneath our feet.

Shouting, screaming
paeans to the child’s God
Who lives and dwells outside
four school walls
expelling with our glee
the stifling breath
of education.


You can command a cat,
or try
to influence him
with hue and cry..
But like most things
that delight and amuse
one commands him best
who lets him


With our first birth
we seize the earth.
Our breath invests
in ancient air.
Our infant chest
is soon divested
of the atoms from our kin,
soon inflated
soon deflated
with historic




Hummingbird for blog





Above the deathbed
his angels hang
on fluttering wings
like hummingbirds
around the trumpet vine
they wait
to drain the nectar called divine
returning to their Father
that too sweet syrup
called the soul.