Ghost I Am Here is a private hutstaring at me,twigs & branchesover the top—naked & alone. I respond to an old 60s doo-wopsong: In the Still of the NightFred Parris and The Satins. Storms are written in narratives,old ears closed … Continue reading →

Summer is Dying Outside, summer is dying into fall,and blue daddy petunias sprout ears—hear the beginning of night chills.In their yellow window box,they cuddle up and fear death together.The balcony sliding dooris poorly insulated, and a cold draftcreeps into all … Continue reading →

I Age Arthritis and aging make it hard,I walk gingerly, with a cane, and walkslow, bent forward, fear threats,falls, fear denouement-I turn pages, my family albumsbecome a task.But I can still bake and shake,sugar cookies, sweet potato,lemon meringue pies.Alone, most … Continue reading →