this child
that once
belly laughed
ran the yard
snow drifts,
so bundled you
barely saw
green eyes
now away,
in other
something you
cannot hold
back, flies through
these times
toward places
you cannot go
only hope
evolves the scene
turns the corner
recently created
stand transformed
in another
so small.

Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta, Glowdeo




It was the cardboard
puppet show, singing
in the backyard, running
from the bees at the
end of our hike, French bread
and salami on  the beach,
dancing in the thunderstorm
mom, sis, and me and
how the neighbors stared
peering from their front windows to see
these  woman celebrate the day,
stealing a pear off  the neighbors tree
and running again, the thrill of
Christmas morning sleep
still in your eyes, sun still
hiding his smile, that first breath you took,
so little and new against
my breast, tunneling
the snow drifts that
lined our house, igloos,
snowball fights and sledding
down the steep drive,
kittens that surprised our trip,
somewhere in  Oklahoma,
watching you climb that big yellow
bus off for your first day and the words
you  said, not knowing I
would follow that bus all
the way to school,
hide in the shadows
and  watch you head for
class, running along side a
bicycle with training wheels
cast aside and how
you flew down the
street, all these things
and more,
that run
together now.

– Previously Published


stories, more stories

it is the play that runs in your head, the
stories mother told you of tomorrow days, how
handsome would win hidden beauty, masked
under the ashes and soot of reality’s light, happily
after ever days, white picket fences with the two
dogs in the yard; those stories that you tell yourself
what it means to be a woman or a man, the
comparison of these cast in the mirror back, paths
you chose and ignored, the neighbor’s greener lawn
and how you need that expensive car, how these things
define us, mold our truths to what we want to see,
they surround us, keep us prisoner, push the replay button.