Whatever its beginnings, I am its end.
No breath raises its chest and passes though its nostrils.
My carnivore teeth wait to rent its body.
My knife stands ready to part its surface.
My hand chooses the first morsel.
I fill the plate with a piece here and a chunk there.
I revel in the taste.
I smell its open carcass.
I have had too much of this Easter Bunny.
(Consumption won BEST POEM at the 2002 Pennwriters Conference)
The tale of a Bard breaking the bonds of his corporate chains – all in iambic pentameter.
“Cubicle Shakespeare, office chair bound…”
(Cubicle Shakespeare won BEST POEM at the 2007 Pennwriters Conference)
The Pane highlights the barriers that people stand behind.
“We sit on two sides of a window. I peer out. You peer in…”
(The Pane won BEST POEM at the 2004 Pennwriters Conference)
The Last Rose of Summer
I was struck one day in the very late fall by a last unpruned rose at dawn.
“One last song sung in past and future tense…”
Then and Again
A reminiscence of twenty-five years of marriage.
“And her kiss is springtime against the fall…”
A wreck-less tale of life in the slow lane.
“Metal nostrils bellow impatient steam skyward…”
What poetry-inclined fathers write to their daughters.
“What life awaits the soul that wakes as future passes near?”
Observing — while being observed.
“It twitches and wriggles under my stare…”
A runner’s contemplation on a stormy September.
“The September sky weeps from old hurricane’d eyes…”