Taking a moment to be in it, as nasty squalls are due. Stroking an old dog who’s ridden a storm, but still doesn’t breathe ’till they’re through. *** This is the sixth poem of my personal 30-day poetry challenge to…
the room is dark, except for the clock. it’s spilling the color blue, screaming 2:27, silently. i roll over to stare at the wall. a blank wall, plain. the blanket is soft, and smells of use and love. …
She wore her life on her face like a heavy mask forged from hard days and sleepless nights worrying about navigation Her strong shoulders and broad hips testament to a woman a real woman who had fought hard since grade…
Waking up in a bus station on the floor next to vomit Probably mine. A ringing in my head gives way to the steady march of commuters bustling past, who don’t even know I’m there. I light half…
A brief reprieve from the spinning wheel A dog prompting me to play on the soft grass at the end of the day A ball some wrestling then lying on my back Staring up at an impossibly blue sky deeper than…
assessing the challenge one considers whether there’s enough poetry in each day or whether we have the eyes to see through the lead wall to the other side where time slows down and birds stop singing a single light your…
Writer. Father to daughters. Husband. Ad man. Raised by wolves. 
