May 17, 2024

Weird Laburnum

Here are all of the short poems published in the  online journal Weird Laburnum.


adrift at sea

the god we pray to

waves 


*


from the kitchen window

my parents host

a festival of squirrels 


*


NO SOLICITING her future 


*


between one thought and the next empty space 


*


in the mirror an emoticon he mimics himself 


*


a mask of my younger self confidence 


*


petting the space where the dog was darkness 


*


swinging his banana republic 


*


asemic writing

a shoelace pulls

a trail of rain 


*


the name 

I set my poems to 

comet moths 


*


click bait Jesus the phisher of men


*


her holiday picture the lifespan of iguanas


*


as if he grew

from the earth

on his jeans 


*


with the window still open I wake to a chill

and tuck myself into your shadow 


*


she nurses a cold that hasn’t got better

the late autumn night stuffed with fog 


*


feeling my lungs

thicken with flem 

I hack up

a chunk 

of self pity 


*


the coldest day

of the winter so far

we stay 

inside 

despair 


*


driving my son 

to clarinet lessons 

the screech

and the squeal

of my brakes 


*


putting away 

the last of the groceries

a squirrel 

with a cheek full

of seeds 


*


filling the page

with meaningless 

scribble

I empty the time

from my day 



November 15, 2023

bottle rockets

Here are the poems I have published in the journal bottle rockets over the years:

a missile
the width of my finger
on the button

October rain
Captain America
shields his candy

singing
the words I don’t know
loudest

out of my arm
I pluck
the bee’s death

spare change
my conscience empties
my wallet

second cup
I stir some sugar
into my headache

rain pelts the candidate’s sign 

I vote for a man who can’t win


the first big snowfall of the season

he remains inside excuses


November 07, 2023

A Hundred Gourds Haiku

Here are all of the haiku I published in A Hundred Gourds, the excellent but long since closed online journal.

punching
through the target
shadow boxer

unable to shake
last night’s dream
day moon

the weight I swore
I’d never gain again
full moon

his
excuse
grows
thin
mountain
air

bent over
too many steps
my shadow

breaking at the surface his moment as a fish

al niente 
mom’s piano
up for sale

autumn dawn
the apple tree
ripe with robins 

morning commute
the horizon bright
with headlights

heavy snow
I shovel the morning
out of my day

dusk
the last orange
deeper in the bowl