For Peg I lean over the window sill Into a night that ferries the scent of smoke past my shoulders and through the kitchen. I step outside for another puzzled breath, unable to translate the mute, cinderless sky or the shadows of the sycamores. If you were here, I would ask, Do you smell it…
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This is a loose collection of my poems. My first writing was poetry, but I was never able to understand how to write poetry or why one worked and another did not. But I thought in poems, in short dense bursts and could not imagine writing stories or novels. Somewhere in my 30s that changed. But I still write a poem when a situation demands, though I still make no claim to actually being a poet. It has been a very long time since I last tried to get a poem published. I am just too lazy to keep track of submissions. But I offer them here on my turf where you have been seeking my writing or something about me. I hope you enjoy and find something of worth to you. Most of the poems will have a little note at the bottom, so make sure you scroll down.