morning memories of a nightmare […]

the dewdrops cover every blade
of grass here on my morning way;
a water slide to start my day
as clinging nightmares start to fade

the whip-strikes of the evening storm
that lashed about me in the night;
the dewdrops soothe that all away,
my way seems clear,
the day
seems bright


By happenstance, I am the only one at home —

It’s been a revelation
Writing these pieces

How often I have been in love —
Or thought I was —
How many friends
Have touched my life

I stand here tonight,
By this grill —
By happenstance, I am
The only one at home —

And I realize that
For years
I painted a portrait of myself
At variance
With the actual life
I’ve led

I’ve hardly been a loner
And I’ve experienced enough
For several lifetimes —
Much of it

The steak’s almost ready

And so, I think

Am I

Where His Head is At

I understand, but still…

His family’s angry at him now
For having done what he has done;
But yet I’m sure the way he feels
Is meaningful to him

He knows that somewhere people are
So much in love that passion reigns;
But he has not felt that in years
And it’s a thing he wants

Or feels he needs, I do not know.
But she – she could not give it him.
And so he left her, and their child
To seek the “newness” once again

I understand, but still I think:
To give so much up, without fight —
It might make sense inside his heart
But that will never make it


(Yes, well, being a grandfather is what it is. – Owen)

I grew inured to horses years ago.
My grandson’s only two: with him, not so —

And if we see a horse out on a drive,
The magic in it brings his heart alive

Which passes, him-to-me, through unknown powers;
And we might neigh each other then
For hours

(Yes, well, being a grandfather is what it is. – Owen)

The Sky Torn In Two

My attempt at the “My Two Sentences” style.

The great book was unsealed, and I saw the sky torn in two. The rain gathered in flooding rivers on the streets of an anonymous suburb, where the poet, his old dog, and grandson shivered, although the last of those soon slept.

(A poor attempt at the style of Edward Roads. Check out his work at ““)