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Have you ever stopped to think?

Perhaps God

is a temperamental visual artist,

who is perpetually

dissatisfied with his earthly work,

so he just keeps adding more

bloody paint,

shards of garbage,

and odd designs

to trash the damned thing?

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

god lives in your mother’s kitchen

you are lovely
in your late morning robe

my ears have forgotten alarm clocks exist

invited to the table
by a red rosebush
i have tea with my closest ghosts


god lives in your mother’s kitchen

blueberry bagels are making the tangerines suspicious

i tell them julia child credited her longevity to red meat and gin

a cherry tree trial convenes beyond the window

the robin in the nest
just confessed
she was mae west
in another life

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

the age of poetry

emerson said
poetry begins
when we live
from the center outward

an explosion
which begs the question

How old is poetry?

poetry is as old as
the first trillionth of a second

it is older than the rings of saturn

poetry was there
the moment william shakespeare
learned to write his name

it was the first ivory key
beethoven ever touched
with his chubby baby finger

poetry was present
when da vinci
married mona lisa off
to the renaissance man

it existed within the wooden paint brush
van gogh dipped into the color blue

it is being made dizzy by gillespie
one night in tunisia

poetry is the inch between true love’s kiss

it lives in the shadows creeping across
humphrey bogart’s face

poetry is a bird silently in flight

it is the light in your child’s eyes

poetry is accepting

life is like being at a great party
and nobody knows who threw it

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

emily had her bees

but i have you

your face is my only white dress

without the hands of pretense
or false religions

innocent creation occurs

the veil is torn
exposing a perfect trust

purity of friendship
within a chalice
never wavering
of it’s shine

i will lay open the throat
of colossus
lifetimes as a statue
to ensure

it is never undone

we shall be ghosts
laughing together
in a corridor some day