is all I’ve done today

letting that stone of sadness

sit heavy on my chest




bathing in the grime

sitting in your hate and rage

remembering each word and phrase



unable to move beyond my misery

I know I’m letting all your nasty

simmer inside of me

My Grand

you’ve been right there with me

through good and bad

you’ve listened to the happy and the sad

you’ve always been there when I needed you

to let it all hang out

to let it go

you’ve been the truest friend

the best companion to the end

you’re voice to me the most beautiful sound

and your touch is how I’m found

we share so many loves

Chopin, Broadway, Brickman

we’ve had so many beautiful moments

with family and friends

My Grand, My Grand

you’ll always be my oldest love


*props to Ray Charles and Billy Joel whose song is a way better play (pun intended) on this idea*






*This poem was written when I was 19 and wanted to find a relationship but also wished I was more self satisfied and could live my life without desiring someone else. It describes cold rational intellect telling me to find meaning and happiness without a romantic relationship that was at odds with the strong impulse towards connecting deeply and intimately with another person. I’m now 48 years old and 25 years married and it seems like a lifetime away. But I remember that deep yearning and longing that conflicted with wanting to be independent and satisfied with just myself. *


I mourn the internal, instinctive needs

covered with the white, soft quiet powder of intellect

I wander through the chill

I step on and on

with feet that burn with cold



her prismed flakes cover my face and blind my eyes

her soft, illusive shapes fall upon my upturned hands as I reach to catch her empty beauty

I face the raging storm that falls upon my beating breast

upon my warm and eager hands


I trample a thousand green blades of grass

I stumble over fields of lillies

my frozen ears cannot hear the sweetness of the thrush


alone, alone with myself

I blunder throught the drifts

and seek the desires of a human

amid the storm

I mourn


loyalty and kindness

may they ever bind us

may they form our words

may they move our hands

may they govern our hearts


*The poem comes from my favorite verse. Proverbs 3:3. Never let loyalty and kindess leave you. Tie them around your neck as a reminder. Write them deep within your heart. The picture is my son around age 11, he’s now 17, a young man, very different. Here he is handing me a wildflower boquet he picked in the hill country of Texas where we had pulled over on the side of the road to pick flowers.*

New Orleans

I can taste your beignets

dripping and powdery

dissolving on my tongue


gold, glittery, gritty

I feel your African American heritage singing it’s soul and rythym

gilded with French curtsies


you are a mystery New Orleans

your clapboard, saltbox unpainted homes

speak of barefoot children and generations of your people


people grown in the rich, loamy dirt of music

seconds, sevenths and ninths

blues and jazz tickled with horns and drums


witchcraft and christianity

stirred in a pot

cathedrals and voodoo in strange harmony


your swamps verdant and green

with sultry beauty

their hush filled with a chorus

chirps, slithers, splashes, honks


New Orleans you are old

ancient with your people whose customs and tongues

meld together the songs of tribes and gilded Europe


Creole you are

a jewel to your nation

a vibrant, living tapestry of your people

dancing in the street, dancing to your beat