To Mom


There’s a dip in the road

Up on Ravenstone Ridge

Where it crosses Wine Creek

On an old wooden bridge.

I remember my dad

With us kids in the Ford–

How we flew down that road!

How he had “The Bomb” floored!

When we got to the dip,

We were launched into space

With us kids and the dog

Flying all over the place,

And my dad laughed so hard

When we flew in The Bomb,

But he made us kids swear

We would never tell mom!


–Photo by me

untitled XV

IMAG2529hopeful hang gliders

prepare to take to the air

on silky sails


–photo by me


autumn of life

autumn of life

lives and leaves

are torn

from their trees

and borne

upon autumn winds

they dip

and swoon and race


across the face

of the moon

scattering afar

until at last

they spiral down

to the earth

to form

that final mound

after all

we all fall down



I don’t really believe there is such an animal as anger–it’s an evolved response to stimuli that might otherwise kill us if we pussyfoot (what a word) around too much.  It seems to be the filter for the one feeling we as humans can’t seem to handle: being hurt.

There was a guy down the street from here that shot his ex-lover outside a bar with a freakin’ deer rifle. He felt hurt, I’m sure, but he couldn’t handle that so he turned it into anger and now he lives in prison. If we could just admit to  such a simple thing that as humans we can feel hurt, maybe things like the Las Vegas shootings, or a women being shot down the street with a deer rifle could be avoided.