You've Never Gone Away

People we love m,ay leave us yet their love remains with us

West Coast Sonnet

People won’t be satisfied until Your book is in the bookstore It is the nature of politics it is The nature of winter I wrote Until 5:00 in the morning almost

The Spray.

This is a true story, the names have been changed.

The Morning After

Joe woke up the morning after In just galoshes and a bow tie His wife awoke, next to him, similarly In silk scarf, and boots to her thigh


Wordlessly we moved on, like a circus of aliens wandering the empty caverns of the universe.

No name

Under pressure to tidy the books


His venomous tongue, the wild beggar Buried in spit and lies, Wants intimate embrace, a private kiss That brings tears to your heart. With a twirl of venom.


the dangers of technology
Poem of the week

This man tried to guess my ethnicity

This man stopped me on the street yesterday and tried to guess my ethnicity. This is what he said: "Can I have a minute of your time?" "Can we play a little game?" "

A Good Price

Could you sell your own child if you had to? Would you ever have to? Tough life decisions on the mangrove coast of the Amazon Delta. Story about the contemporary slave trade in South America.

Get Out

Hurry-hurry get washed dressed then eat while ears assailed the world is waiting with further items to digest

God and The Devil Get Drunk

At a historic Irish pub in the East Village section of New York City, the two ancient adversaries hash it out over cocktails.

Stubbed toe indigestion

Ok I didn't stub my toe whilst suffering indigestion, but I definitely started the first line with a bit of acid burn, and it does trigger a bit of asthma. With a bit of self destructive diet to make it worse!


1st Verse: U.F.O. I.C.U. Where do you come from? What do you do? Are you weather balloons like experts say or from Venus or Neptune or farther away. Chorus:

Happy ever after: a Ruby Charmchanter chronicle

A long awaited sequel to the critically acclaimed original Ruby Charmchanter chronicle...

Man with a beer in his hand

The man at the bar who stares, and stares, and....stares.

Grown-ups missing Santa

A generous old man adept, and deft at giving secret gifts: morphed to foster expectations of presents as befits the average monthly purse of each locale (why can’t I ask to get a horse?


I stare at the girl in front of me, Brown hair, green eyes, small nose, freckles pepper her cheeks, I look closer, Lines of worry carved into her flesh around the eyes and mouth,


We went to a fairy tale party