You're a craving I'm unable to define
A thought that plays on and on
In the recesses of my mind,
a vague, nevertheless, an intense spark
of emotion I'm unable to point my finger at
right now, that yes,
I feel this about you,
It'd be less hard if I knew
what this strong whirlwind was,
Because if I knew,
I could tell you

That neighbor of yours is a sunflower stealer,
No doubt about it,
And I think they made a grave mistake,
Picking flowers like that,
Because they missed the most beautiful one of them all,
You know,
Because when they picked them, they let you go.

You’d think when people made crackers,
They wouldn’t shatter,
But here we are,
Early hours of the morning,
Eating defective crackers,
With cheese, salsa, and laughter,
Cause these pseudo-chips are mocking me,
And the entire row keeps breaking,
But it’s okay,
Because even when things seem to fall apart,
We’re always there together,
Picking up the crumbs,
And making things better.

Fill the basin
To half full
Cram the dishes
Into the white soapy
Bubbles and very hot water

Too hot for hands
And dish clothes
Wait, write a poem

Have a cup of coffee
And pat myself on the back
For doing three things
All in the same bunch of moments

What can be said
You dig in
Oh, water's still too hot

Pour myself
Another coffee
Contemplate the state
Of the unkempt Kitchen floor

This day is cold and dry, more March than April.
The wind, from the North, howls mean and low.
I'm here to pay my last respects
to a teacher I knew long ago.

He taught with a passion for all things French
I was an indifferent student though
We both loved music, he could really play
I wonder now what became of his piano.

The school where he taught and I attended
was taken over many years ago.
Of all my teachers very few remain
Even some alums have been laid low.

His soul has taken ship for that distant shore.
That distant borne where all are truly equal.
There, in the Democracy of death, they wait
in the hope of being featured in a sequel.


All are actors in this existential drama
each performing our own lines and parts.
Our curtain drop may meet with scant applause,
Love, Perhaps,from other aging hearts.

Granite figure
you have no words
you could absorb mine
just for a time
no one else need be
subjected to my monologue
and perhaps
i'll find peace.