Spark & Muse

The rhythm of poetic verse
Is not a prison – not a hearse
It frames a space for spark and muse
And fits the truth with walking shoes


The Adhesive is Failing

Cubes of cold marimba
Clatter against the shallow sides
Of a thick-bottomed glass

My grandfather grips the Manhattan
Like a handrail
Beads of condensation
Blink between his tanned fingers

His black Oxfords tread
Worn-out linoleum
Stuck to farmhouse floorboards

The adhesive is failing


Porch Piano

Unboarded for summer
June bugs thumb heavily
Against rusted screens at night

Cigar clamped in his unshaved smile
Cocktail nearby
Eyes the color of sea foam

His right hand pets a melody
While the left strides
Between chord comp and bass line

From a never-tuned piano
Whispering, Stardust, and Blue Hawaii
Drift nightward like spirits