The Gallery

Such is a shadow,

a lonely walk

the energy of a soul

finding their way

his way

her adventure

perhaps his imagination

a painting to lose his mind while trying

desperate measures

the sort of bind that seems attractive

rather than one of ridicule

when the reality of the game

is revealed

in gallery seven,

perhaps it was four

or somewhere in the early afternoon,

she in cloak and dagger

watched him switch postures

giving him some indication

that his trophy

might be her own

quiet diadem

to steal the words of

Emily … (Dickinson) …

he was in his aching manner

subject to


Mansion Envy


I wonder about that world carved into the wild

Down the street and tucked off the avenue

Backed into a shallow grave

Where the bricks and mortar rise


The landscape stretching beyond the forest

Where the trees and natural growth were stripped away

New seedlings forced to convey an image

A gardener’s responsibility now

Certainly not yours, whose identity you might be today

Given the nature of such surroundings

I’ll only imagine you were never meant to stay

Yet now an after thought

Lives in your dream home.

When we drive by we wonder out loud sometimes

Who might occupy this vast acreage?

With security shades nearby the pool and recreational rambler

The windows are all rather sheltered

With drawn fabrics coiffed to internalize a world

Unlike my own

Far removed from my daily concerns


I do wonder though

About your typical day

Waking, eating, smelling, living, walking, tasting, releasing

Seems though the grounds are untouchable

If I were to walk up to you

Might my fingertips reach out to: interact?

With the bare realities of the human condition

How different are we all in our mechanical persona

While around us other lives seek shelter from the wild.

Rains in May

I used to sit alone

And watch as the raindrops glance the pane

Of our picture window

Each time a new shape of splash in setting

Slowly falling away to join

A sea of moisture far below on a sill waiting

In the summer’s warm …

I would listen to their constant pattering

Suggesting that Nature

In all of her lovely splendour could mellow moods

Might allow a pause

From the need to run and rearrange and drive

Our minds and body

Towards a new level of seeming accomplishment

Yet here tonight my

Mind isn’t racing except to watch one drop caress

Another on their journey

Together seeking to join all in the sudden fall

Of raindrops on my window

Softening against the hollow of a hot summer’s day