Tuesday, April 27, 2010


It is said, where there's hope, there is life.
And life carries the promise of every new dawning.
In promise, the offer of the gift of life
is glowing with love  of a Good and Gentle nature.
Nature, like the awakening of a new spring.
And in the Ever-lasting Spring of our new life,
we will take solace in knowing that hope springs eternal.


Making a change for change sake,
is akin to shouting into the wind.
Intentions, mask the futility
of where your fire is directed.
In retrospect, nothing really
does transform. It is manipulated.
It is cajoled; a good front is placed
in front of the vile vision still seething.
Thoughts become controlling; left to
simmer and boil over again in time.
Turning a jaundiced eye to the truth.
You hope for better, but don't hold your breath!

Monday, April 26, 2010


More than five times have I been blessed,
from my vantage point, the middle man.

Two sisters and four brothers
all offspring of the same mother,

all with their quirks and styles,
(everyone with Dad's smile) and

a completely separate branch on the family tree,
foliage gone, but the rings around the trunk

assure a longevity; a brevity in the span
of this vast universe so created, and elated

that we have come to reconnect at a time
where the incredible shrinking surname

wanes towards obscurity. A factual surety
that frames this portrait with love and understanding

no longer demanding and pompous, an enormous relief
in the belief that in assuming the mantle left behind

we will find our footing and map out new ground,
profound in the knowledge of our origin and happy

we were afforded the opportunity to flex our wile,
while never straying far from our connection.

Joseph, your history is our mystery. Not around long enough
to make a blemish, although leaving your mark on our fabric.

Cynthia, queen mother so assumed, groomed for the position
of matriarch with enough of a spark to be yourself.

Paul, sure and independent, most reticent to belong,'
too strong for your own good, a marvel with wood.

Tim, wild and free, determined to take life by the throat
and squeeze every ounce out of its living.

Ken, backbone in question, but heart always in place,
a face only a mother could love, (and she could have been jiving!)

Laurie, a singular soul, her only attachments are her siblings
and her felines, straddling the fine line of "Crazy Cat Lady".

Where does that leave me? The word guy, know-it-all, writing the script that skirts dysfunction for the joy our bond provides.

You got that right, Brother!


You touch the light switch,
you touch it again.
One more time for good measure.
A treasure to be sure,
but battling a compulsion
and repulsion that threatens your
sanity. There is no vanity
in your foible. A matter of mind over
repetitive matter. Rest assured.
The light is out. The door is locked.
Your slippers rest at the edge of the bed,
facing south, and crossed the way your
feet hit the floor every morning.
And despite your malady, the reality
is that I wouldn't change a thing about you.
I'll just remain here to see you through.
We can do this, together.


A lost connection:
a faulty wireless router,
giving and taking away.

A frayed cord on the telephone
cracking and crackling and
inaudible incoherency.

A heart string that was
forever pulled taut but
was never allowed to break.

A sibling rivalry that threatened
the familial bond beyond compare,
brought to bare by the passing of Pa.

A failed divorce, a phoenix rising,
in the imminent demise we all face,
dealt with in grace and dignity

for our sake as well as the kids.