Poems

Marco Island, Florida A woman walked out from our condo building toward the pool adjusting her swimming clothes each step of the way. Looking down from my high balcony perch I could not see the disarray she attempted to correct, only her body wriggling the bathing...

Marco Island, Florida The bird in the palm tree outside our rooms, bereft of news, sang happily all day.

We take our morning walk along the beach, broken sand dollars, shattered shells, the strand strewn with unmourned mortality, Endless sea and sand will one day vanish with yesterday’s sand castles lost to tides. What I have learned from daily loss changes my longing...

To live poetically one must be willing to rest in a constant state of arrival, continuously coming into uncontested presence, every pore a point of entry, every contact received by an inquisitive nerve. vigilant attending all ways always, a fierce commitment to last...

I write to change the world, a futile effort, so I’ve been told, so I believe. Who reads my poor words? Yet, the world changes. Or do I? A surfer constantly recovering his standing on a wave.

I bought you a Valentine’s Day present online, cold candy and a dozen cool red roses on the stem. I ordered the gift from invisibilities.com. It should be on your door step as you read this note. Go look. If you can see a package it’s not from me.

Away from the noise crowded streets of Sorrento we walked an orchard lane between lemon trees, the plump yellow fruit of the Amalfi coast hung as daylit lanterns among branches. A woman our age but much older yelled at us from within her black dress words we did not...