Sorrowful walk.


West slanted gold tinted light

white and black smudged clouds

scud in from the North along far off hilltops

bringing the grey gathered curtain of rain

that sweeps through the trees

on the path in the valley where I walk

thinking of you again

and this thing that invades

your brain and your life

without warning from time to time

I listened for several hours

as you spoke of your fears

the terror with which you view

the risk that it might return

you now believe it’s as inevitable

as the rain on this Autumn day.

Distant dim voices

the sound of laughter

the smell of burnt fat drifts

across the river from the Trattoria

I watch leaves fall

hastening the end of another year.



How I ended up in art school


How I ended up in art school

Facebook is a mystery sometimes


reading the class reunion page

in a sort of disbelief

the gushing praise

of a certain teacher

the one who’d order me out

at the beginning

of every class

for an unknown reason

knowing though the consequences

if I was found

by the head teacher

was a certain beating

it was my best subject


she was the new teacher

so to avoid the certainty

of my fate ironically it seems

I hid in the Art room

with the Art teacher’s

quiet agreement.

Resistance takes many forms

its consequence uncertain.



Resistance Poetry

Verse as Commentary


cover foto credit Edmund Shea


On the flyleaf I wrote Avenel, New Jersey

twenty first December seventy three –

Rommel Drives On Deep Into Egypt

Richard Brautigan.

a Christmas present to myself

ninety five cents

alone along with Frye boots

bought in Connecticut

it had been raining all day

in the night snow fell.

Books on the shelves

each dated and signed

negotiate my travels

pinpointing those days

it was a bad year

I’m still affected

by your betrayal

this year talking about it

with a friend

another element revealed

The Frye boots lie

in the attics darkness

I have no idea

the reason they stay.


Verse as Commentary