Poetry

The Vanilla Pines

Can you smell the vanilla pines? she asked No, I replied...

The Storm

No one scolds the beach when the waves are angry When they froth with rage and foam with fury When they gnash their sharp, shell-strewn...

On the Bluffs of the Santa Monica Pier

March was National Poetry Month. While I read poetry all month long, I squeaked in writing my own poem on the last day! It’s only a...

September 1st

Twisting, wringing, Plummeting to the earth With no parachute I’ll land on my feet (I always do, though my knees crumble from...

Sometimes I Wonder

Sometimes I wonder what I am doing In a city As I pass a hidden forest And the smell The sweet, fecund perfume Assails my nose In...

Undertow

i can feel it rising the ocean of bilious emptiness sweeping away my peace i thought i’d built on rock it’s these days at home ...

By the Lake

beside water’s lap she bows her head alone with herself and her dreams suspended in an afternoon hazy summer sun sighing in harmony ...

Homelessness

A breath of family did I feel While hours passed within that meal. The glow of friendship, soft and deep, Into night’s chill did ebb...

The Joys of Being the Oldest

The thrill that comes from Being the only one to Ride to the next block Is not a small thing. Your bike is your noble steed Driving...

While Falling Asleep

Giddy shrieks drift through my window On a musty river of moonlit air Its damp nostalgia recalling Capture the Flag at midnight On the...

New York Harbor

Eighth Avenue at midnight is a murky sea of smoke and rouge, on which the battered hulls and tattered sails of the impoverished struggle...

Evening Sunset

the dark, navy Hudson sparkles beneath a gold and rosy skyline, the orange sun bouncing off, a swathe of trees, deep green, separating...