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



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 




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 


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

the words I don’t know

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.

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


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

the last orange
deeper in the bowl