Madison WI

I’ll be back next March 2023, aftera three-year hiatus has cost me time. It’s become a kindly drug that worksto … More

From Time to Time

He woke up crying, rocking in his bed,unable to stand, let alone walk,and he wondered would he ever be ableto … More

Softening Music

Grampa sits on the porch rockingHums songs from back in the day when he sang themFull-throated, lung-topped and smiling breathlesslyFeeling … More

Reflections

Amazing how so much dust and grimecoat the surface of a wall mirror.Lying on the floor, I could easily see,but … More

Missed Miles

Travel catch-upFrance friesChina frailsIreland fleetsNorway wavers Korea warnsAntarctica whelms Yesterdays of anytimeDesire returnedAche in the plane seatFatigue flying time zonesDay after … More

Speak with the Dead

I quit watching the clock some time ago.  Factssuch as my age, or what day or month or yearit is often escape … More

The Clock on the Wall

Exactly a year from now, I wonder ifI’ll be sitting at my computer writing something?I believe I foresee a good … More

Introspection Dialogue

You look at me as if what you seeshould make you mean something moreto you than what you are. I … More

The Rice Eaters (for GB)

They sit bent over a creaking teak table top,this old pair aged out in days, near the limit,eating simple fare … More

labor under old love’s illusion

unblinking at a new moonmoving thin skin outlinesilver sliver shimmering roundperfect, the odd center of it allmilky, muddled, blotchy, shadowedtaken all … More

To the Rescue

You didn’t finish the yard work, only half the bedroom’s painted.Dishes lie in the sink, and you hear the bathroom … More

Unwound

My legs are tired, heavy.Each step’s more a slog.The clock slows down.Someone forgot to wind it.Used to stay on top … More

Reunion

There are never more, of course, always only fewer, as it is in this life, so it goes, the some … More

To Place a Face

I am standing in line for coffee. Even though the social distance floor dots have disappeared, everyone stands a decent … More

Time’s Gift

It’s that late hourBeer in handThe yard work done againI watch the close of the faded irisPurple and whiteNot as … More

The Hours

The first time I read Mrs. Dalloway I was quite young, 21 maybe. And I was struck by her age, 51, and … More

The Last Time

Mr. Fujimoto wheeled his gray trash bin to the curb and dropped it at the edge. Pausing, he looked down … More

All Those Miles

“Put ‘er there, pal,” he says, sounding as though he’s stepped out of an O. Henry story. I put my … More

When To Come

What does it really mean to arrive fashionably late?What, you’re too busy with your important life to show up on … More

A Month of Sundays

It’s what’s meant to be a long time.A month of Sundays does not exist,unless you’re retired,in which case it’s more … More