It’s three hundred yards
From this spot to your window.

But I am away!

I do not expect
insights or happy endings.

So why do I cry?

Sunlight on cropped hair.

A mother touch from winter
warming me, briefly.

Eating on my own.

The silent chairs rebuke me
with old arguments.

Rejection Letter.

The clear path I imagined
walked by another.

Don't let the dragon
Sink fangs into everything.

Be still my anger!

When I proclaims that
it can not find words today

I speaks too loudly

I praise such stillness;
But it is the same canal?

Now I doubt pronouns.

When waiting for mail
Marvel at technology

Then curse its slowness




Work steals from home life?

The New Year reveals old ways:
Absent when present.

When you hunt for words
Tred softly; and do not rush
Into baited traps

No snow. No footprints

Remembering where you went.

No chance to follow.