Original Poems


 There was that day, that hour,
 You can still recall it,
 When all of life's possibilities
 Washed over you like breeze on bare skin,
 And you felt more alive than
 You had ever felt, or thought you could feel;
 And you knew, suddenly, exactly what 'joy' is,
 A word you'd only heard in songs before,
 And never experienced, at least, not really.
 But that brief time, momentous as it was,
 Seems impossible to convey to others
 As any description of it seems
 Trivial, empty, and meaningless.
 There was a blue sky, and 
 Wind blowing the tree branches, and
 A bright autumn sun...

 But what makes anything meaningful
 Is not the thing, itself;
 It is our interaction with it,
 How it changes us, and 
 How sometimes change is unspeakably
Original Poems


Across the span of love and space,
I see her young, her vibrancy;
A sister of tomorrows that
She was not fated far to see —

But yet: within each perfect sky
My heart and eyes can feel her there,
In days that say that life is good,
And some of that is still


Original Poems

Morning, early fall.

Morning, early Fall. Hazelnut coffee
and ripped jeans through windows, people
streaming out of and into doors, and blue
peeking around the morning clouds; while a bit of
chill comes by, uncertain it is any longer
a remembered thing. But she remembers, and
the memory is such as brings a smile to
her face like a joyful dawning, the moment perfect
in its fullness, the smell of the coffee shop and
the feel of her own skin like the excitement before
the start of a balloon race, and autumn turns
into the eternity it always was.

Original Poems

We ate dinner in silence…

We ate dinner in silence, both worn out,
But spicy Thai food woke us up again –
The dreaded day had come, and been born out,
Just like we thought it would, it had. But then

We drank and laughed and talked of other things.
She ate her massaman, I ate my beef;
There’re unexpected gifts life sometimes brings
When we are past all action but belief —

And as we left the place, I grasped her hand,
Which she squeezed back. No other words were said:
For lives are full of meanings, unexpressed —
Like living through a day
You’d come to dread


Original Poems


He thought they’d had, for them,
A quite good day.
He took the garbage out
Before she asked, complimented
Her on the new hair style, and
Listened for some time after
Inquiring as to her day

He tried to make eye contact as
She was taking unusable things out
If the refrigerator and moving them
To the garbage can, smiling on
Occasion to show his sympathy with
The vicissitudes of that day’s battle

He commented on how selfless she
Always was, and how people took
Advantage, sometimes; as she finished
Drying her hands after washing them,
He lightly placed his hands on her shoulders

Whereupon she recoiled, turning at
Once to pass that off as a gesture of
Busy procedure on to the next task, while he
Realized with the first dim realization of
A new forever that
What used to be good enough for her

Wasn’t good enough any more

Original Poems

What does this ocean mean right now?
It’s voice is soft, I barely hear

The words its forming in the waves
I stand, attenuated, like a deer —

But stillness breaks before it forms
My mind, it never finds repose

Whatever, now, this ocean meant
Is lost to space,
For heaven