Truth

Our love
was like 
snowflakes
falling 
on 
winter rivers:
beautiful then
gone …
beautiful
then
gone …





Photographer
for Mark Hillringhouse

He directs light,
tempers shadows,
crops landscapes.

It’s his world
through his eyes
we see as he

frames life 
for a taste 
of eternity 

where 
a sunrise
keeps beaming

a snowfall
never surrenders
to summer

and, with a click,
a loved one’s
face can remain

clear as memory.

-Previously published in Lips Journal



To My Neighbor


That night last week when our block lost power
you and I stood outside with flashlights and joked
about what still could be done in the dark.
I was lying to you, Joe, I wasn’t really thinking
about sex. I was wondering if I could use this
in a poem. Before you suddenly have somewhere
else to go, may I tell you that some nights
I’ve seen you out back wrestling with your sons
and I’ve thought how you could write about the feel
of each other’s arms, each other’s breath,
and record the joy of tumbling in grass.
I write poems, Joe, I don’t hunt deer as you do
although there’s lots about an October forest
and talking in whispers with your buddies
that could make a page beautiful. Joe, I’m a poet,
and also a thief, because that night we lost electric
you said, “It takes the dark to appreciate the moon”
and I stole that for some lines about the power
of friendship. Stop by sometime for a beer
and a poem with your words lighting the first verse. 


-from Alone with Love Songs (Grayson Books)