Wednesday, April 18, 2018


Close to where I live, there's a spaceport.  Soon a spaceship will be launched carrying some wealthy and brave people into space.  They will be weightless for 2 whole minutes!  For that, they will pay a little fortune.  
I have mixed feelings about space exploration.  The idea entices me and frightens me simultaneously.  But the festival I attended was fun and though I will never invent anything that contributes  to space travel, I did learn some things.


I recently went to a space festival to celebrate
Progress of cosmic explorations
Made me wonder
About our intentions
For all those current and future inventions. 
Will we give or merely take?
With Star Wars' blasts will the heavens break?
Or from starlight's peace will we partake?
Will we be lost in space or find ourselves grounded
By seeds of wisdom growing in a story 
We could now reinvent?
Will we choose detachment to forever avert
Gravity of this earth?
Will entropy write our final chapter
Or will evolution allow us rebirth?

(For Poets United.)

Sunday, April 15, 2018


 My grandmother with my daughter. (1974)
  She raised me.  Also, took care of my daughter for two years.

When I was twenty something
I stopped wearing a bra.
It was symbolically burned
as sign of liberation.
I attended groups to raise
my consciousness enough
to never be like her,
a woman with no liberal aspirations.

When she was in her twenties
she worked in order to feed
four children, the burden
her husband ignored while he
drank his earnings with whores.
After the fire, that killed
one of her kids, she suffered more.
Until she raged against the condemnration
of a woman who fought against her own subjugation.
She left her little country, her husband too,
to work, to save, to establish new rules
in a different world where she was almost a slave.
But she forced her family's transformation.

When I knew her, she was a housewife
who took care of grandkids like me.
Her husband, now sober, worked responsibly. 
He loved her.

I loved her too, but in my twenties,
in my ignorance, my arrogance
I judged she knew nothing about
the struggle to be free. 

(I read this poem on a local radio station yesterday at the request of some friends.  I couldn't come up with a new one today, so I thought I'd reprint it here.  
Wishing everyone a peaceful, happy week.) 

Sunday, April 8, 2018


I saw it from the corner of my eye
My skin crawled like the bug
Slowly creeping 
My impulse was to kill 
Ugly disturbing nuisance
I ran for the broom
To exterminate
This small creepy crawly thing
Causing my fear

But it was just a little cricket
Sort of cute if you think of Jiminy
Not as ugly or germ infested as a roach
That has no right to live 
Even if it's simply, naturally,
instinctively seeking
Food, shelter, life

I let the little cricket hide
Die naturally sometime outside my view
To eventually be swept away
From dust to dust
Death to death
Judged by my idea of mercy

(For Poets United.)

Sunday, April 1, 2018


I see pictures of my grandkids
Playing, clueless
about the meaning of new beginnings
All they care is about games 'n toys
They're happy for the stories
The Easter Bunny, Santa Clause, princesses, fairies
I wish I could pretend with them
Enough to believe
But I'm too old, no longer naive
Instead, I stand by the sidelines
Enjoying their joy
As I sprinkle a million true wishes
Real as all the flowers that bloom
All the leaves of grass
All good things invisible or seen
All the love, the peace
This blue marble earth
Can birth

Wednesday, March 28, 2018


I've been an excavator, a pirate of sorts
Though I never plundered for my treasure
Deeply hidden, disguised, buried under rubble of
It's tricks, lies, joys, sorrows, pleasures
Camouflaging what I thought I sought

But I looked deeply in my heart
There I found
Now I am no longer a seeker

(For Poets United.)

Sunday, March 4, 2018



She roams the streets
She has no flowers 
To give strangers who walk away
After bribing their guilt
by giving her a dollar

She'd like to love the one she's with
But she's alone
Nobody loves her
The way friends used to 
In communes sharing drugs, sex, 
Dreams that nurtured imaginings of peace
Are they all dead?

The old hippie tries to sing protest songs
But people yell, "BE QUIET!"
Confused, she searches for Woodstock
But sees no psychedelic colors to guide her
Silently, courageously she devises plans 
For solitary revolution

Wednesday, February 28, 2018


Should I rest in lifeless slumber
This day
So filled
With nightmarish trepidation
Obscuring even my yearning 
for a happy tomorrow
How can I rush to awaken
Knowing my heart will be pierced by arrows
Making me bleed into my dreams
That dissipate
Into death

Or should I rise like the sun
Each morning
Seizing the darkness  
With brightness
Illuminating beauty
As well as ugly insane beasts
That live each second

Will I choose
This day
To camouflage my fear with sleep
Or rise and burn the senseless evil monsters