Americana Art astronomy beauty belief cemeteries childhood civility comfort communication

Blood Relations

Kentucky thoroughbred

wild flower covered

rose wreathed

bluegrass hills

day lilies praying to face the sun

white horse fences on Derby Day

mint julep

drinking celebrities

wearing too much makeup and cloying colognes

spectator hats

pastel bow ties, open toed

espadrille intentions painted perfectly

round pen prancing

such breeding,

& the horses are pedigreed too.

The world of Man O’ War and

My uncle,

Etheridge Spaw,

my family’s last great horseman

elder statesman

until we got a jockey and horsewoman

in my niece, a true princess.

Etheridge had a voice like thunder

booming across a valley

melodic, bellicose, bass baritone

a cowboy hat the size of god

and a cherry wood pipe to match

stories of blood relations

unfurling in his pipe smoke


prince of our family

your memory I cherish

thoughts of you, on a faraway farm

just this side of a Kentucky heaven.

Bless and keep us through the days to come, uncle,

and thank you, kindly.

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

the way married people

he was the man who taught me
the way married people fuck around
on their lunch hour

surely you don’t think
the suburbs are filled with $50.00 motel rooms because this is such an ideal
convention town

when life requires
i drive down the street
where we would meet

i like to think
we’re still up in that room
half dressed and covered in sweat
his delicious bald head
and neck tie
wrapped between my thighs
a sinning sinatra singing
to my shaking mia farrow

poetry Short Stories Uncategorized

within the milk of a star lit morning

the first time
i saw his face
a moment suspended
within the milk of a star lit morning

deep beneath
layers of winter
my tightly cut
snow glistening
wool coat and garbo scarf
glided through quarter notes
on the moving street

he turned to face me directly
as i came closer

his eyes forgot everything but mine

one look
and i knew
that i’d been going about it all wrong

i raised my brow
with a sultry smile
and said

good morning

in such a way
that made him want to hear it

just like that
into his ear

as he entered me
for centuries

poetry Short Stories Uncategorized

love affair

we were driving
near the water
i was green
with a lack of land
begging him to veer away from lighthouses

he never let me drive
but it was okay
because it was one of the ways
he was older than me
and i counted on him for that

leaning in he notices
my pearly white painted fingertips
resting against the tan leather of the car
and says
your nails are beautiful

i say the color is called
love affair
and he says
of course it is, baby girl,
of course it is…

poetry Short Stories Uncategorized

tuesdays at 4th & race tower

i wasn’t looking for him

that fateful day in may

when we shared an elevator

in the 4th & race tower


i had business going up

but the look in his eyes

told me he was thinking of a merger

as he was going down


we fell immediately


he was more f. lee bailey

than atticus finch

as we sat side by side

corner booth clandestine

in the federal reserve bar


skyline glistening

him whispering

meticulously explaining his intentions

to remove my clothes as we sat there

ice dripping from our manhattans



his fingers traced my cleavage with desire

such well-tailored

justifications we both wore

as we disregarded

his wife

my husband

and the groceries in the car


so many pairs of new heels

bottles of perfume

and panties purchased

in his honor


hiding hotel keys and receipts

within our comfortable suburban ruts

a trail of miniature shampoos

and complimentary soaps

left behind in our quiet footsteps


we burned beautifully

as we used each other for warmth

for the heat of fire

sometimes we would stroll through bromwells pretending

one day we would share a hearth


even jimmy the bellman was

gladly complicit

winking and smiling

passing messages back and forth in the art deco lobby

of our grand love affair


how careful we were


so many afternoons we rose



to the 14th floor

passion torn open with desperate kisses

atop a mahogany desk


before retreating to wayward text messages

and running errands that didn’t need running

to sneek in a phone call


these delicious tuesdays

were not enough

to sustain us


how we suffered for each other


until the rainy afternoon

i drove into the city

to surprise him for lunch

on the wrong day

and saw his face under the portico

buried in the hair of the wednesday blonde


i laughed aloud at the instant karma

and the thought of being the tuesday brunette


as he was

my tuesday bald guy