like a little girl

the ghost of us
is the only thing
older than the
red and yellow
thai take-out
containers

spilling over

and around

the garbage can

with its living line

of ants

that separate

living room from

kitchen

the stereo

that i found

on the side

of the road

in sherwood

plays a

van morrison cover
and even though

your eyes were blue
it seems
dead on


the drink
in my hand
gone
and the ice
too far away
so i pour
straight from
the bottle
and sink farther
into the past

drinking
alone
to  be with you

Another Poem for my Birthday

That's right, remarkably I got a second poem for my birthday. This one written by Betty Heidelberger, a wonderfully dear friend and writer.


Message to a Homeless Poet

You should not waste your power or your gift
Let poems explode like thunder from the skies.
Reserve the right to talk about your life
The trailer parks, the hookers, and the wine.
You have the touch, as addicts often do.
Remember Poe, his Raven and his pipe
The madman dreams, distraught, he wrote them down
these were his soul, the rudder for his life.
You are a poet, wear your badge with pride
No matter what bad choices you have made.
It hurts my heart to see you often down
Don't give your power to a phantom dream
We have all sinned and guilt is just a crutch
To break to cinders in a violent wind.

When I think

When I think
about my childhood
I think of
Saturday mornings
and The Super Friends
and three channels
that we changed
with a pair of pliers,
because the knob
had come off
the television
and got lost.

When I think
of my Mom
I think of
tucking in
hugs and kisses
and french toast
for six kids
made with
an entire loaf of
Wonders.

When I think
of my Dad
I think about
the trips down
gravel roads and
Whistle Bridge
and learning to
shoot guns with
open sights.

When I remember my
brothers and sisters
I smile
and recall
freeze tag,
and softball
and all of us playing
together in the yard.

When I think
of you,
when I drink
too much,
I can only recall
the sadness
of losing
you.