Wind Song 1


There’s a mug of coffee brewing on a cold winter morning
There’s a firefly landing on my hand on a warm summer night
I have had the chance to recount those moments of clarity
When I least expected the winds of change to blow through my soul
Why I haven’t been outside since this pandemic began
Well, it’s because I don’t remember what “outside” is.
I don’t remember the wind at my back
As anything but a disturbance in my day
Because I now have to pick up the scattered papers of my life
The wind is stronger here in this quiet place



Turning a salt shaker over and over
As I try to get the courage to say something
But I am not seasoned enough
I wanted a moment alone with her
To let her know that I am worth her time
Though I am no longer sure if I am worth mine

She was something out of a dream I used to have
Where all would come home to care for me
But I am not here to be looked after
I am here to say nothing and pass her by

This scares me more than I can say
The silence is as frightening as the embarrassment
And all I want is to go home
But she still draws me in
Like a flower to her nose
I don’t know if I can pass the smell test
I just sit here quietly

And I wait for an answer that may never come
From me



I thought you were an island
I am a boat circling around you
Looking for a place to dock
The waves are getting higher
The moon is out over the water
And all I can see
Are the dreams I left behind
When I pulled my anchor

Games I Left Behind


The game is over
I don’t know the score
I saw you in the stands
And I couldn’t think of who would win
Unless it was me.
Unless I get the opportunity to play just once.
I don’t like this game
I don’t like the rules
All I want is a chance
To get my popcorn and coke
And sit with you
On my ratty, torn couch
And watch the games go by
And think of all the victories
Made possible in your eyes



Something lightly touches my skin in the afternoon
Not sure if it’s an insect, the wind, or your pressence
Telling me it’s okay to feel something.

I don’t really remember anymore what it feels like
If your touch was a momentary brushing of skin on skin
Or if it was the creation of my world anew

As a child, I fell on the stairs leading to the kitchen door
There remains a scar on my chin
Some scars aren’t caused by injuries

Memory is a scar sometimes
Now how to apply the poultice



I love cheese
I also love the feel of the wind on my back
I am not supposed to have much cheese
I don’t get to feel the wind
Because I stay inside
Where my friends are the television
The computer screen
And the cheese



Sitting on the floor
With my blocks
With my own twin towers
A child of innocence
Stacking memories on top of each other
Till they get to be too much
And the towers come tumbling down
Under the weight of my expectations
I crumble as I pick up the remnants
Of what I was back then
The ash and smoke arise
As my dreams waft away
In whispers

Two Televisions

There are two screens in front of me
One is blank right now
On the other is a baseball game
I am not sure which brings me more pleasure
On one, my team is on the cusp of a really big play
On the other, I see the reflection of my cluttered life
Waiting to break free of the mess
And score big

I have two tvs so I can split my attention
Between two games, or two shows
Or so I can ignore two things at once
I love my privilege
One of these devices
Has been with me since before I lost my wife
It still gives me a clear picture
Of everything I watch
And everything I lost

Color Correction


Your face is dark
Not sure if it’s your mood or the lighting
Or my uncertainty in how I want you remembered
I approached this picture like I do my bad habits
Correcting things later, when I should have composed with greater care
We are masters of our art
But sometimes our talents lie
In knowing which pictures not to take