Category Archives: Poetry

The doorway facing me allows a slivered fractional view of a streetside window. Through the left lower corner, a sign across the way warns, No Trespassing.

“It’s cold out there, Greg.” ~Iditarod Red Lantern Award Winner Bill Mackey The mercury read two below zero when I left Twisp.

Saltwater sloshes at my puttee-clad boots as I sway beside my brother, the lieutenant. His son, nearby, is propped on an elbow, smoking in a crowded bunk at the sally port.

This place used to be alive. I can feel it. The walls of the cliffs ascend beyond sight, and the shadows engulf me as I walk.

Descended smoke thick as Beijing smog Cell phone coverage and landlines out All ties cut to the world-wide web

The water fountain at All Saints Church is built for children.

A man approached the Master, mind sincere, heart confused. He wanted to serve no other.

I’ve heard interminable stories about the inordinate number of Inuit words for snow.

In Architecture: The arrangement of windows and doors in a building. In Medicine: A surgical procedure to correct certain causes of deafness. May Day, 2020

found lines from a time of great unrest, after Émile Coué In 1920, Coué released Self-Mastery Through Conscious Autosuggestion in which he called the technique one with which “we play unconsciously all our life, as a baby plays with its … Continue reading →