• American Homeland

    If you listen you hear
    the chirping of songbirds,
    and see the old life depicted
    in the dilapidated sheds... more »

  • Amish Country For M. J. Lavin

    AMISH COUNTRY for M. J. Lavin... more »

  • Blue 71

    Stopping on the bridge, just a short bike ride from town,
    on a lonely stretch of new york highway -
    where the marsh maps the land -
    if you listen you hear... more »

  • Crossing Lake Champlain With You

    The word “Hebrew” means “those who crossed over”….
    the ones who sought to be separated from
    those who did not cross over…the ones
    who crossed over were seeking the meaning of life.... more »

  • Dire Times & Endless Desire (Like A Streetcar)

    I, the grandfather,
    who slept on the slope of the hill, facing east.
    I had my children with the woman I loved.... more »

  • Eternal Being

    Glimpsing through the laurel and lilies
    I catch sight of four women playing tennis
    in the heat of a summer day.
    The scene recalls to mind... more »

  • Glazier

    the words that coagulate
    and conjure
    the pond where the surface
    like glass malleable... more »

  • Glint Of Sun

    The glint of sun daubing the pond
    as if an eternal moment
    conceived in isolation -... more »

  • His Dilemma

    I went for a walk in the twilight along Cascadilla Creek,
    as the shadows of darkness and the glimmer from the rushing stream
    mingled with my emotions. I like to walk there.... more »

  • In The Field Were Fireflies

    In the field were fireflies, the meadow
    sparkling in the darkness
    like a Van Gogh painting (Starry Night)
    where the desires of my heart... more »

  • In The Shadow Of Dudley Mountain

    Desire. Sunlight. Soft wind. Written in the morning.... more »

  • Indian Lake For S. R. H.

    etched in
    time... more »

  • My Secret Life

    Staring down into the clear water or
    squinting through the dazzle of light,
    it’s a bit lonely looking north to the town.
    The air doesn’t get any fresher,... more »

  • My Son Slept In Red Cloud

    Tim spent the day weeding in his father’s flower garden
    (most days he washes dishes at the local college) .
    My son, Matthew, driving west to Utah,
    spent the night in Red Cloud, home to Willa Cather,... more »

  • Ocean Marsh At Dawn

    Haunting beauty shrouded in mist,

    peace as it exists without human complaint –... more »

  • On The Beach

    Where soul was eternal and memory from reality,
    twenty years later I stop the little rented car I’m driving.
    It’s late on a Saturday night,
    it’s late in the history... more »

  • Outermost, A Man Alone

    I am, outermost, a man. Here
    the subtle choreography
    of solitude
    on a lonely stretch of sand,... more »

  • Park Bench 101

    Park Bench 101 is a course designed to explain and to cause the student to comprehend that God exists and is an ever-present Being, commencing with the formula: 1 to the minus thirteenth power, that is, .0000000000001 (the chance that “Life” exists) .

    For a one-celled life form to spring to life (and here life is defined as 'a self-sustaining organism able to reproduce itself') two hundred separate but absolutely in specific order chemical events must occur. (Also, this does not account for nor explain where the material itself originates from.)... more »

  • Perdido

    Alone in a place where no one breathes
    I sleep like stone carved from memory.

    I’ve lost in myself what belongs to others.... more »

  • Picture Perfect

    It is August. A time of still water.
    The grasshoppers inhabit the tall grasses... more »

  • Reflections In The Sun

    (Northampton, Nov.5,2011)

    “Nobody seems to notice I’m here.”... more »

  • Sawed In Half

    The truck I’m in rumbles across the grand, rolling green hills
    of Argylshire, New York.. Crossing a small bridge, below I see
    mossy islands in the nape of the river. Everywhere are wild blossoms,
    foxglove (I think) , in royal purple, which brings my wife back to me,... more »

  • The Best Part Of The Day

    The best part of my day was fritted away
    in the swamps of South Carolina –
    I was vanquished by all my desires,
    seeking to love what remains innocent,... more »

  • The Breeze Provokes Me

    The essence of who I am,
    my sword in my hand,
    all the words like molecules
    piercing my heart –... more »

  • The Geese Don'T Know What Day It Is

    In Second Milo (New York) I remember
    in complete detail my grandfather driving
    the back roads of rural Massachusetts,
    how we would stop in a glen and eat cherries... more »