Letter to My Love

I love you
you have
in with
the wrong crowd
They don’t care
about you
or your children

in shiny suits
lie and call it truth

With fast talk and small words
They steal your treasures
your reputation
your dignity

Orange is the new
black and blue

I weep for you


This is written for Verse Escape and for dVerse.

How Many More?

I know
people kill people.
I know laws cannot
be enforced.
I know there are
people with mental illness.
I know
this country has
a second amendment.
And I know money speaks.

But I also know
seventeen more souls
have been ripped
from their lives
seventeen more families

And I wonder
how many more?

I am sick that I have cause to write this.  It is for Friday 55 at Verse Escape where Hedgewitch honors the late, great G-Man, by having us write exactly 55 words each Friday.

Early Riser

This morning
I was on
my fourth cup of coffee
when the sun
showed his face

Three a.m. monster
came to visit

The night before
it was
that jolted me, terrified
from sleep

But I think
the monsters
are worse

At least
I can wake up
from the nightmares

This is for Friday 55 at Verse Escape where Hedgewitch keeps alive the tradition and memory of the G-man.


it is the best of times
it is the worst of times
the market is up
integrity down

a nation stands by as
it is shamed, scammed and flimflammed
used and refused

is this insanity
to keep us from seeing
the man behind the curtain
or are we being led
to the precipice
in earnest?

This is a fashionably late entry for the amazing Hedgewitch and herFriday 55 at Verse Escape.


There is an emptiness
in these days, a barrenness
Surely we have
taken a wrong turn

Birds keep searching, calling
to one another
endlessly circling the skies
but they find nothing 
with which to build their nests

Oceans are punishing
the shore 
stealing it away
bit by bit
and no one seems to notice

The land sighs and shrugs under
its bitter coat of snow
It has forgotten
how once it
enticed seeds to germinate

I try to turn inward, but
there is a wall
everywhere I look
topped with razor wire

Somewhere there must be a door
but I cannot find it


Wandering through
this dark, cold night
we stumble over
stones in the path
stones thrown in anger
stones that could build walls
stones that could break bones
stones that could bring down giants
or stones that waited in secret pockets
stones that sat in collections, on shelves

that may once have been
our hearts

IMG_4010 (2)

This is for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 at Verse Escape.