audiology literature mythology poetry sociology writing

sweet nothings

we were madly in love

just long enough

for your voice

to haunt me

for the rest of

my life

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

romulus and remus

having twin teenagers with autism
is and will be
the greatest challenge of my life
if i survive this
i can whip anything

there are days when it’s hard to tell
who is screaming at you
the autism
or the 18 year old asshole

their teeth come out
bile and vomit spray the walls
over being asked to pick up their dirty socks

it is then i remember there is a tall bridge
perfect for giving up
right down the road from my house

and i think of what would happen
in my horrid wake
the abusive father the only one left
to care for them
the equivalent of throwing them to the wolves
romulus and remus made flesh

death is just another luxury a single mother can’t afford

not loving them enough to stay alive…
that isn’t me

that’s what my father would do

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

icarus fell into the sea

you are the reason
the wright brothers took flight
you are the reason
the chicago & rock island railroad
dared to cross the mississippi
you are the reason henry ford
leaned over a drawing board
sketching models a to t

the gods knew
one day
we would require them
to carry you to me

you are the reason
daedalus fashioned
a pair of wings

you are the reason
icarus fell into the sea

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

these little dead poems

all that remains of us
are dates to be forgotten
yellowed photographs
a carton of chesterfield regrets
and a few lingering
travel receipts


these little dead poems

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

agreeing with an accordion

he strolls in
to the gray paged light
of kaldi’s coffee & books
seeking my table

it’s an old haunt of mine
down on main street
that’s no longer there

i nod to him
noticing he looks
hawaiian shirt out of place
this far inland

as he sits
the waitress materializes
liberating a beer from the table
that spent it’s time there
wishing it were a bourbon

promises are made about eggplant lasagna

we hear edith piaf
off somewhere in the distance
agreeing with an accordion

my lips have his eyes transfixed
as i tell him,

“You’ve turned me into your Yoko.”

he cackles up the side of bookshelves
laughter finally reaching the tin tile ceiling

“Why can’t you be happy with that, darling?”

“Because, when I arrived, it was already broken.”

“But you must pay…”

the yellow beeswax candle
the only fire on the table between us
extinguishes itself in the iron holder

“You should be grateful, all my characters die at the end. Besides, you’re more Idi Amin than Lennon…”

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

the not-so-good catholic boy

i fell in love with him as we rehearsed for a play my sophomore year

he was so significant

i still remember his confirmation name


he wasn’t my first kiss

but he was my first love

the not-so-good catholic boy

with whom i first went all the way

he gave me my only claddagh ring

on a hillside in ault park

still kept in a mother of pearl box on the dresser

i have refused all the other hand held hearts

bearing crowns

that came after

it’s easier not to care for whom you wed

he was 18

i was 15

that’s three decades to a teen

we were beautiful together

his blaze of red hair and irish smile

looked lovely beside

my dark island queen

we worshipped each other

we made stupid choices

we made love in places that defied

our anatomy and physics classes

within a year our words had destroyed each other

we exist an unused marriage bed

our unborn children grateful

they never endured our divorce

as am i

but i don’t regret a moment of him

yes, i still remember his confirmation name…


as she departs greece

“This is all a parlor trick. You lovely statues are liars,” she whispers into cave vapors,
pressing her finger to the ear of the temple god made of earthly stone.

“Look at the lengths to which we humans will go in the act of assigning meaning to a world of happenstance.”

The deity has no response, nor would it ever, no matter what was said.

The sacred record player scratches vinyl to it’s death.

Lantern flames cease to dance.

She turns her back to the idol and the promise of a waiting heaven.

Her feet step to avoid the bones and rotting meat of sacrificial lambs who had come before her as she makes her way back to the entrance.

“We are nothing, we mean nothing, we are here for no good reason, and we are miraculous for it. The beauty and freedom of that is lost in all this fuss…this superstitious need for locusts, devils, and bloody rain.”

The deity maintains it’s silence.

She emerges into the light shouting, “Yeah, that’s what I thought you would say…”


well meaning neckties

he loved me perfectly

more completely

in one night

than all the others

with their combined efforts

overblown eight ball romances
ivy league educations
fun house cocks
poorly tailored psychology
wearing cowboy boots
on a summer night in detroit
front men screaming at their drummers
and the sight of me walking away

over the decades of my
failed overtures
at making a life

all gods
whose constellations
have been burned from my sky

they’re all my favorite divorce

but not him
no, certainly not

he makes me regret all the lesser men
for whom i’ve bought
well meaning neckties

Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

within the tomb of the king and queen

our castle walls
were made from orchids
and pillars of moonlight

marble statues carved with our names
in the courtyard
call to each other and weep

young lovers whisper
burn amber
making offerings
of olives and wine
composing poems
seated at our feet

shakespeare thought of us as he cast othello and desdemona
into the sea

red divinity spilled onto marriage bed sheets

would come
to tell the world

we were lovelier
because we were doomed

i see the sad tale in your eyes
each lifetime
our fated lips meet