Sycophants in Spring (a poem)

The world wakes up each spring
I notice warped smiles
Birdsong is back, hideous
On sunny, manic blue-sky days
An energy is something
You feel in the body
The way trauma is stored
Each time psychosomatic
Tensions mount
A naked man smiled at me in the
Bread aisle, and what a smile!
I noticed the weariness of
His wrinkled face and I remembered
Not everything is well
There are sycophants among us
They hide in sticky crowds
They could be anywhere, believe me
Spring is a time for violent vigor
And a harbinger of obsession
The sensual beauty out there
Sometimes hides the disdain
And the madness

Winter is a Time for Healing (a poem)

Winter is a time for healing.
Cold, gray mornings and a pallid moon hangs in the sky.
Bundled up to protect my heart.
My heart is a fireplace, radiating from the center of my chest.
My lover comes close, we warm ourselves.

Winter is a time for healing.
Birds migrate south, leaving us to think of what we’ve done and how we can make the world a better place.
We take inventory of our souls.
Nature retreats, but it’s only regenerating.
Without winter, there’s no spring or summer.
We snuggle into the season with our lovers, and I clasp my rosary as I pray to the God I want so desperately to believe in.

Continue reading

Daily Quote: The Loneliness of Winter

“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape—the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn’t show.” – Andrew Wyeth

Continue reading