A Chill in the Air

On Tuesday you cried

upon my shoulder,

trusting Jesus to save

your soul.

On Friday you played

the entertainer, making light

of fearful faces in the room.


You left us in November

as the cold was setting in.


You danced in the face of death,

a can of beer in your hand.

But morning came with raindrops,

in your bed you would remain.

You communicated in silence,

lids weighted with eternal sleep.


You left us in November

as the cold was setting in.


We ate brownies topped

with ice cream, while the lesbian

hugged the Catholic and God’s

Spirit sweetly smiled.

We laughed through tears

as we remembered; said

our prayers to fill the void.


You left us in November

as the cold was setting in.


I said goodbye on Thursday,

and left roses in the snow.


Conversations in the Parlor

Worn red velvet sleeps under
nodding curls of faded floral paper,
while weary hinges sag on cupboard doors.

Faded script of holy heritage
chronicles chapters of former days,
tangled roots of a sprawling family tree.

Tin types hold their secrets in silence,
refusing to refute the lies or tell the tales
of lives lived beyond the photo’s frame.

The quiet never quite slumbers,
in a room where history whispers
and yesterday sings her songs.

Published in: on November 25, 2011 at 7:05 pm  Comments (1)  
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Inner Habitation

Quiet (but not silent) 

Ongoing discussion (questioning)

Inquisitive (but not demanding)


Flesh of human heart,
beating with humanity’s rhythm,
exposed in open air.

Self Reflection

Where’d it come from, this self image of mine?

Was it fate or circumstances or something more sublime?

I wasn’t treated badly. My parents were OK.

Just ordinary folks living day to day.

Where did it come from this view of disrepute?

Was it this? or that? I guess we could dispute.

But when the day is done, I guess it doesn’t really matter.

I am who I am, just a little bit tattered.

Published in: on April 22, 2009 at 7:48 pm  Leave a Comment  
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