Category Archives: Poetry

What did Shackleton take his men out to see? A frigid flag shaking in the Antarctic breeze, Marking the most extreme point of the planet? No, I tell you: something far greater than this.

I hadn’t lounged there Lazing in the sun For more than five minutes Before I saw her Pawing at my leg

We have shared so well, you and I, from love’s deep cup, and shall drink once more…

let us not speak of silences so sacred they are best unbroken

Lightning never rings the doorbell It’s more the unanticipated guest A nocturnal moving of your favored cheese Or an arresting act of God

I will be the one who holds you I will have your back I will never disappoint you, baby Never jump the tracks

I looked down at my feet I hadn’t counted on three Inches of compact snow

I have filled my frontal lobe With facts and figures Which have brought me to the edge Of inanity There’s something missing

A monument to movies’ gilded mage Stands in a vaunted, vaulted sepulcher. The sculpture—like the critic, just as sage— Has chiseled (as Scott’s learnèd pen) assured.

This is the house that Jack built At the end of a long drive It stands apart from its neighbors At home with its solitude And its singularity