My Road


life is pulling me
down a road I
don’t know

or do I

if it is the same
road as before
I believe

I missed my turn

or if it is a new
road I’m too
weary to tell

is that the wind

no it is the sound
of my breathing
my heartbeat

I must trust God

step by step the
road narrows a
single road sign

silhouetted in the
surrounding light
beckons me

the pole bears a
street sign with
a single name

my name

this is my road
a way only I
can go

Odds and Ends No. 69


I’m still in Oxford by way of Endeavor
back to Inspector Lewis but not sure
why I’m watching these over and over.

A middle of the week martini is rare for
me as was the salad. It was either that
or throw the lettuce out tomorrow.

The BBC must be part of my grieving
process or some process not sure
at this point.

What could have been a productive
book editing day turned into a so-so
OneNote vs. Evernote shoot out.

Add to that late afternoon thunder
storms and the day was meant to
be weird. The joy of the day was

texting you, loving you by emoji
and laughter that neither of us
could hear, but could feel deep

down inside we miss each other
so very much. Martini, salad,
cheese, and a few crackers with

Lewis and Hathaway where I
found them ten years ago made
me think about where I might

be ten years from now. Then, I
decided that wasn’t a good idea.
When I had a plan the future

went awry. Wrong plan. So, I don’t
have a plan beyond today and the
future remains a mystery. I put my

dishes in the sink and decided it
was far better for me to think of
you; so I smiled as I thought about

what it would be like to touch your
hand or trace your lips with my
finger and how lovely it would be

to linger over coffee with you every
morning for the rest of my life and
talk about anything at all.

Seems Like Mars


if it was morning
I’d say something
like this is the

last thing I did
before I went to
bed last night

but I can’t why
because I’m
still up closing

in on midnight
while you are
sawing logs

a few hours
from first light
but I had to

tell you I love
you one more
time today

which if you
could hear me
counts for the

first I love you
for tomorrow
morning

but you can’t
hear me
I’m here

you’re there

by the way
choir practice
was a whopper

can you hit a
high G he
asked me

I leaned into
the mic and
said I have

no idea
I hit
something

all the while
my thoughts
ran the gamut

from Frankie
Valli to you
sound asleep

anyway here is
another I love
you from what

seems like Mars

 

Nothing Else


today might be described
as brain weary drink a lot
of water day

I’ve gotten half of things
half done and the other
half not done at all

my focus was gone
earlier and now the
day is gone

as I sit here recovering
from a few days of
high activity

and my massage today
I noticed some oil
still on my arms

immediately I thought
of you and that it is
your touch I long for

nothing else

Only More


what if I could write poetry
to you and little else

what if texting was illegal
with fines and stuff

what if cell phones and
all electronics were defunct

what if I was here and you
were there was permanent

what if I jotted down another
zillion more deterrents

my resolve to know you would
only grow until I was no more

my resolve to love you could
never be less only more

Unpunctuated


it’s a holiday
I wasn’t going
to write today

but as the day
wore on I knew
I had to tell you

one more time
that I love you
which is so true

I don’t have the
words for it and
there is so much

I was aching to
tell you that
I wouldn’t let

anything stand
in my way even
punctuation

I didn’t want to
pause to think or
pause to fuss or

stop to examine
no I love you
more than our

love apart can
feel can say can do
can think or fathom

our love is such
that nothing can
stop it our love

is who we are and
words can’t explain
it what can keep us

apart it is like trying to
keep light from the day
or dark from the night

in its simplest form or
at its most complex it
will always be the

uncut version of our
lives the truth of who
we are and love

this unfathomable
life of ours that is
a forever love at its

best unpunctuated