Dark Rooms

In the father's bag of lackluster delights. Photos, oh so still, of kindness and flowered sprites. Hand picked pixels for a child's plight. Thus, a student, I became. Chiseled out of a teachers harsh lessons. Everything beyond the four hollowed doors were overcast by rain. Infantile in thought, somehow, beauty remained.   In the age … Continue reading Dark Rooms


Stories, Yet to be Told

Drove by the old house today. A stranger in waiting, sold the shame. Thus far, looming sadness hung in the earthy frame. In the snow encrusted trail. Further on down a humble gravel road. Sitting on a rocky fence. Composed centuries before, in haste, by a homesteader's plight. I had become slack about what steered … Continue reading Stories, Yet to be Told

Cycle of Abuse: Chapter 1

I have thought long and hard...On how to begin this. Should I talk about the Juncos that grace my deck? The snowstorm that so much reminds me of my later teenage years? How instinctively I understand those with mental health disabilities? Photography? Poems? Writing? Or... Should I stay on track grammatically?  For if you listened … Continue reading Cycle of Abuse: Chapter 1

Stopping By…Frost

  Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening   Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the … Continue reading Stopping By…Frost

Found About Town

Striking up a conversation with my town... The stench of 'no one need be around!' As solid as toxic soil, cushioned to the waste of happy, joyous, debris. City limits picturesque for the deviant in me. Here and there, no blasphemy. No toil among other plastic soldiers. Perhaps, only a lack of salvaged liberty.