A Bar Man Asked, “What’ll It Be?”

A year ago last night, I swallowed an ancient poison. Out of slow pain, grows each next blunder, submissive sigh. I know well what terror’s counsels be. Crouched low, in a dim light, I followed familiar rhythm. There is no gain, no use, to wonder might I die. I could feel the mirror watching me.Continue reading “A Bar Man Asked, “What’ll It Be?””

Poetry From ‘Every Dish in the House’

Poem preview from the new book, I am sending this out to a friend who is at a crossroads (mild). There is no judgement here, no solution, only awareness of something…something new. 3. A Generous Breakfast The visitor looks paused, as if at brink.Maybe, he waits to gather forward motion strengthor considers deep a commonContinue reading “Poetry From ‘Every Dish in the House’”