Wednesday, November 1, 2017

THE ELITE, a poem


                 Whether famous or anonymous
                  the elite soar from the plebeians
                  through their individual feats
                  of a moment or a lifetime
                  The elite number in millions
                  beginning at the beginning
                  the first leader, fire maker,
                  bard, farmer, baker, artist

                  Among the undeniably elite
                  reflecting marvelous achievements
                  Leonardo da Vinci, Barrack Obama
                  Elizabeth Bishop, Willie Nelson
                  Jim Thorpe, Shalane Flanagan

                                                  (Nov. 1 and 6, 2017)

Sunday, October 15, 2017


                  The rage of nature
                  the floods of Texas
                  the hurricane of Florida
                  the devastation of Puerto Rico
                  the fires of California

                  Earth’s revenge
                  grimly thrashes
                  with howlinge winds
                  with quaking earth
                  with leaping fires

                  Fecund world into
                  barren fields
                  empty seas
                  broiling suns
                  shriveling mankind

                  (Oct. 15, 2017)


Tuesday, October 10, 2017


          I took the pen
          she gave me
          to write without
          looking back
          become the writer
          not the reciter

          I stand on the
          shore of the Styx
          to paddle without
          looking back;
          become the ferryman
          and the ferried

          I weigh the balance
          of unworthy debt
          no obolus beneath
          my tongue;
          become the creator
          of my golden bough

          (Oct. 10, 2017. This poem was written six years ago by the protagonist in my novel, THE ABSCONDER. It was inspired by a woman he loved, but was forced to abandon to escape the possibility of being returned to prison. In his new life he became a noted poet.)


Friday, October 6, 2017


          Body on fire
          with youthful desire
          Uncertain lips meeting
          in sexual greeting
          Ending unrequitedly

          The illicit kiss
          leads amiss
          The passionate connection
          thrives absent inspection
          Ending without joy
          An invitation to dance
          leads to romance
          The craving is sealed
          with a fulfilling yield
          Ending with lasting love

                   (Oct. 6, 2017)

Sunday, October 1, 2017



          I want to go home
          the pathetic plea
          of the demented
          Caregivers sadly
          listen helplessly

          There is no going home
          the longed-for mother
          is gone beyond reach
          the childhood pleasures
          lost forevermore

          Going for a drive
          diverts attention
          For awhile the plea
          is gone then returns
          I want to go home

          (Oct. 2, 2017. Seemingly common to all dementia victims is a hunger to go home to the nonexistent house where their mothers still dwell in their happy childhoods.) 

Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Thoughts on THE NATURALIST by Andrew Mayne

       THE NATURALIST is a whodunit worth reading just to meet Dr. Theodore Cray, a college professor/scientist whose inquiring mind evolves him into a tenacious sleuth.
        Spurred by guilt feelings that his teaching might have led one of his former students, a brilliant researcher, into circumstances that resulted in her murder, Cray sets out to uncover what happened to her.
        At the outset, police consider Cray a suspect, because he knew the dead woman. He is quickly released when a perfuntory autopsy lead the police to believe a bear is the killer. The setting for this novel is Montana.
        Cray’s speciality is bioinformatics, which combines advanced computer programs with biology. As he says of himself: “As a scientist, I observe, I analyze. I make guesses.”
        With that background, Cray first decides a human not a bear killed his student. The police, of course, sneer at his conclusion. Then he sets off on a hunt with an extraodinary outcome, in this well-plotted, nicely-written whodunit, that is a pleasure to read.

        A SUGGESTION: Please consider reading my novel, THE PENCIL ARTIST, the story of a short order cook, who aspires to be a recognized pencil artist. He stumbles into a battle with a nutty billionaire. The outcome will surprise you.

Tuesday, August 22, 2017

MY DAY, a poem

         What is there
          to say
          nothing happens
          in my day

          Evenings are much
          the same
          no one else
          to blame

          Treasure pleasure
          in taking
          life’s measure
          ignore the aching

                   (Aug. 22, 2017)