
lopsided firethorn
remains unbowed despite
the weight of berries

lopsided firethorn
remains unbowed despite
the weight of berries




I saw an old man
nestled in a nook
beside the sidewalk,
a plastic jug
of night diesel
beside well-worn,
second-hand boots,
combing greasy hair
with parted fingers,
and rubbing his eyes -
child-style -
with loose fists.
He was awake at an hour
to get to a job
that he didn’t have.
Instead, he’d amble / stagger
along the riverside,
taking frequent stops
to taste the bathtub concoction
made in the bathtub
that he didn’t have.
And somewhere,
at some undefined hour,
he’d drift into
a restless death-slumber
to repeat it all again —
“Groundhog Day” style.

the cave columns
grow by drips - one particle
at a time




The fallen leaves
of a sheltered tree
form a shadow
made of yellow,
a pointillist shadow
painted yellow,
‘til the wind blows
angled and low
to send that shadow
on its way -
or ‘til the leaves
turn brown and crisp…
whichever comes first.

in autumn,
sunlight pierces the depths
of the forest



The sun is out after
days of gray,
and no fog or cloud stands
in my way
of seeing skies of blue.

deep in the cave,
there’s a hole that knows no light;
everything
and nothing can reside
within that black hole