Back to Words

Back to Words

Renewed and new

Old and worn

Planted and grew

I refresh in a new 

Set of words

Tied in meaning

And time

I return to Words

In search of rhyme

Chaos Control 

Let the trolls


Let the birds

Fly upon them

I am sick of lies

Sick of tails

Tired of being the end 

Of the joke

Let the chaos control

Roll out

On the world


There is a place on Manhattan Ave.

Down on the street

With a view

A little spot called Peter Pan

My morning donut man

Light but filling

Soft but full

Smell of fresh dough walking in

Warming from the thin winter air

Grab a couple of loose Washingtons

Fumbling some change

The pale white aprons fill the counter

They exchange money for food

As I grasp this first-morning donut

I embrace its warmth and familiarity

My teeth rupture the delicate sugar coating

Unleashing the yeast flavor in subtle fashion

In this moment I am home

Wherever that takes me

The sugar hangs on my chin

As I walk back out through the crowded doorway

I am on my way

Back to Brooklyn

Back to life

Breathe it all in

Take one last bite






4 Minutes

In 4 minutes I will attempt

To write words

Strung together with

Some meaning

My eyes are stuck to the screen


Written in an attempt to say

What I have postponed along the way

Returning to ritual

Feels good

Yet not unusual

Articulate Assembling

Articulate assembling

Summer salad created

Hands willfully picking the pieces

Assembling the creation at hand

Southern Indiana type of man

Years spent on the eastern seaboard

Now looking a bit more windward

Back against the jet stream

And to the midwest

Now creating companies with goals set

A man and his discovery

Looking for hopeful engagements

And full recovery

We sit for dinner

My wife and I

Engaged from side to side

Discussing his next adventure

From the countryside

A home set off in the distance

Off the country roads in existence

We discuss possibilities of new futures

I wish I could have seen this sooner

Ruptured Lines

The flawless defeat

Of the demonic judge

Ruptured the lines holding

A grudge

Numerous screams absorbed in defeat

Holding a rock now

Standing at his feat

To the sky his hands are held

Over the judges corpse bellows

Double the warmth running

Through his veins

Now transformed to flawless

Caves running from his heart

The heart of a man who has overcome



For he now

Is the only one left

On his feet


Embark Blindly


The final hours down

I can’t say I regret much

Although loosing

Loved ones was rough

A full decade to reflect

Looking back at life’s intersect

Even as I fine tooth comb inspect

I am happy

Moving forward and not leaning back

Bursting at the seems

With high impact

I embark upon 30


It takes a moment to set in

Realize the final ringing of the bell

Not an ending

But a closing

Reaching back at this point

Has no meaning

Worthless in my attempts

My vain grabs at last seconds commence

As ten years of live conclude

I had counted down the months

Since I knew

27 turned 28

No big deal

28 turned 29

No 30 was in sight

And tonight

Tonight it sits quite real

Real indeed

It came so quick on my

With high velocity speed

So I reject with no anger or remorse

I will let time do it’s just course

Submit to the seconds that will bring about change

In my mind, body, and soul

I will celebrate my own growing old

But as these last moments unfold

I hope that I can do better in the next ten

No regrets

But not letting up

Seeing the next decade to the end

Age brings about wisdom

Which in turn sets me free

As I embark blindly

Upon the journey

Of turning 30

Light of the Wren – Chase the Sun

Profuse and too many to count

The Austin suns beams

Bending over hills

Setting over the Western runs

The sun

Like a wren

Of the new world

Singing its praises

As the daylights time

Comes due

The city’s unique song

Lingers in my ears

Joy to my heart

Warmth to my limbs

We come limping in at 3 AM

From a wrathful road of flurries

To a fresh morning

As crisp as gently plucked berries

Scandalous in the evening sun

Slipping a cloth lightly over the door

As we embark on the city

Once more

As we disengage the night and snore

We then wake again

When the closing time comes

We set out and chase the sun

Oy Vey Sign

A flat in Brooklyn

With walls thin

Above a Patisserie

Is where you will find

Her and Me

Where the Williamsburg Bridge


Take a bend

Up north

On the Queens line

But just before the

“Oy, vey” sign

We have found in this confine

We can shine

Breaking out of our old lines

For these poems

Will always remind


Of our time

In Brooklyn