The Last Star Cloud

last star cloud

Away from the fire,

Alone together at last,

We gazed into the starry

Heavens and held hands,

Her beautiful yellow eyes

Sparkling with starlight.


Taking it all in, she said,

“Do you ever wonder what

There is beyond our cloud

Of stars, our Milkomeda?”


So curious, I loved that.


We searched the inky

Nothingness Beyond for

Answers, but found none.


“There’s an ancient myth

About the stars, y’know,

Ever heard of it?”


“Of course,” she answered,

“We’ve all heard the myth.”

And then she began reciting

it as though she believed it;

As if it were some magical

Tale from her childhood:

“It is said that a long, long

Time ago,” she began, the

Way the elders spoke of it,

“The sky was an endless

Universe of star clouds,

Just like ours. Endless.

And we came here from

A different world with

A dying sun…”


“That has to be a myth,”

I broke in, “I mean, where

Could they have all gone?”


I took her in my arms.

“Billions of clouds, each

With billions of stars…

Imagine if it were true!”


We laid together that night,

Looking away from the fire

And into that murky void

Of  unanswered questions

Beyond our own star cloud,

Knowing that we had each

Other, and yet somehow

Feeling very alone.





Country Gal Dawn


When Dawn

Comes to a city,

The people

Go berserk;

They hate

Alarm clocks

Crowing that

It’s time to

Go to work.


But when she’s

In the country,

The roosters

Proudly crow

To tell

The sleepy

Fields of crops

It’s time for

Them to grow.

Surgery Update

man and stick

About two weeks after I had surgery for both an Inguinal and an umbilical hernia, one of the incisions burst open in bed, drenching me with blood. I went to the hospital, and the doctor told me that it was infected, and they’d probably have to remove the meshes, and that I’d have both hernias back while we dealt with the infection, and then we’d have to start all over again. I thought the day couldn’t get any worse. I was wrong.

Just as I was trying to absorb the doctor’s words and wondering how I was going to do all that again, my phone rang. It was my brother, calling to tell me that his only son, Jason, had died from a drug overdose. It was on the Ides of March.

When the doctor opened me up again, the mesh still looked okay, so she left the incision open, and I have to pack it with gauze every day. I still have quite a gash, but it’s slowly healing from the inside. I’m actually going for a little stroll with my latest walkin’ stick, and I still hope to run a 5K race this summer.




When people ask,

‘What’s with the beard?’

I tell them that

I think it’s weird

To disapprove

Of God’s own plan

Of making whiskers

On a man.


God’s given them

a cause for scorn

and so they ‘fix’

it every morn.

Me, I think

I’ll let it grow–

But carmel apples

have to go.