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  • Fishing


    I don’t catch many fish

    I’m not a natural

    The arc of the weighted line and fly

    As it sails through the air

    Is like a poem

    Find the rhythm

    And the fly lands by the rock

    And floats lifelike along the riffle

    And over the basking trout.

    But often...

  • The Cost of Warmth

    The Cost of Warmth

    • Apr 23, 2018 12:21 pm
  • Around this snowy bend

    Around this snowy bend

    I hear the song of summer

    Around this snowy bend,

    Where the cold wind will stop blowing

    And the...

    • Mar 1, 2018 01:00 pm
  • I Shot a Tree

    I Shot a Tree

    I shot a tree to death on my way to Viet Nam. My first war crime. I knew I was going to die and didn’t want to die alone.

    • Oct 26, 2017 11:44 am
  • Skies With / Without Clouds

    Every sky is blue,

    When the clouds have been skimmed

    from its top.

    Every garden is lovely,...

    • Jun 27, 2017 03:14 pm
  • Rotting Log

    Rotting Log

    I saw the future

    In a rotted log

    The withered, ashen-laced edges of dried barnacles

    On upward curling...

    • May 8, 2017 04:32 pm
  • Welcome Wanderers

    Welcome Wanderers

    On my way to bed at night,

    I pause to click the back porch light.

    Seeming captives of its...

    • Oct 27, 2016 11:22 am
  • Rain


    First-fall of language through the foliage down

    • May 2, 2016 12:40 pm
  • Package on its way

    Package on its way

    I wait for Spring as one waits for

    • Mar 1, 2016 03:01 pm
More Poetry


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West Milford, NJ