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two trees were once saplings together

nested in an egg crate they fell in love

until a bittersweet morning when

they were planted far apart in a forest

he edge bound by the ocean

she in the land locked middle

for many years

they could not touch

they could not speak

time passed into grandchildren

but eventually

his roots found hers deep within the earth

now she holds the moon up in her limbs

to thank him


fauna insects Ohio poetry science writing



the creature lighted

on my window

for a moment

before returning to the sky

as if to remind me

though wings become tattered

it is still

entirely possible

to fly


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The Inevitability of Cherry Blossoms

“Every mile is two in winter.” – George Herbert



has a way…

of making atheists

of Englishmen,

country folk,

and poets.


It’s as though

they have forgotten

their prayers

and the inevitability

of cherry blossoms.

childhood ecology education Jazz Music nature poetry Short Stories sociology Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

the spider slayer

there was little indication
i was not a part of the sunlit green
moss covered bridge

summer creeping
along the gorge

perfectly still
save the rise and fall
of grateful lungs
taking deep lustful breaths
of rushing creek below

my eyes set upon the soaring
white sycamore trees
where the indigenous people
of this carved miami valley
sought refuge
after glaciers melted

musing that
200 million years
isn’t so long
in the grand scheme

when my sacred peace was disturbed
by the sounds of new things

tremors caused by seven year old feet
across creaking boards

three little boys

too varied in appearance to be brothers
accompanied by an aloof
iPhone addicted mother
walking along oblivious behind them

i turned my head slowly
to observe the play
wait for the poem to come

the tallest of the prepubescent trio
crouched down
scooping up a daddy long legs spider
off the trail
before running onto the bridge

he set to taunting the other two boys
with the harmless creature
then dangled it toward his still absent
phone call mother
on whom
the gesture barely registered
a turn of her head

darkness came into his eyes

his gapped teeth gave way to a wicked laugh

as he cast the spider to its end
over the side of the bridge

the other two boys were distraught
over his brutality toward the arachnid

the youngest of them looked around
for an adult to whom he could run
for solace
for sense in the matter

choosing me and my quiet
over his uninvolved chaperone

he ran desperately toward my calm
to ask
if what his companion
had so cruelly
done to the spider
had killed it

could the spider survive
that fall?
he pleaded to me
hurriedly pointing to the water
tears streaming down his face
as if i were
the one
who made such choices

in that moment
i felt the age of my bones
older than pious pebbles
praying silently
in the stream
beneath us

i knelt down
so that i could look directly into his eyes
and said

no, son
i’m sorry
it’s likely
the spider did not survive the fall

but this moment
has more to teach us
about the nature of humans
than the nature of the spider
doesn’t it?

his brown eyes grew amber and wide
with new understanding
as he turned to look at his friend

the spider slayer

in a low voice
…yes, m’am
…it does

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing


my thursday morning
slippered feet
made their way
down the driveway
of the doe
eating flower bed blooms
in my neighbor’s front yard

i froze
coffee in hand
stooping for the paper
when my eyes found the majestic deer
so robust and noble

standing slowly
stifling a giggle
as she seemed to know which plants
were the priciest
and had taken the longest to cultivate

her brazen way of saying
your quaint little cul-de-sac
is in my field and stream, fuckers

she allowed me to watch her
because she knew we were both just girls
trying to find our footing on another morning
our babies needed to be fed

there is a light within females of every species
the wonder of creation
giving oceans inside us

it makes me want to tattoo my stretch marks
to my fertility statue frame
to make my warrior scars more visible

after all
i am a red indian


one more night

i’ve walked down the driveway
to the pond
full of night life
frogs sound like barry white
ducks are adrift in lipstick and heels
the moon is a full breasted street corner whore
the carp are bookies
the snails gotta get their shy running right
and i
am dock seated
naked in the dark content
just to be alive
a poem in my pen
one more night

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends


my priority was silence

after being weighed
and cavity searched
by tsa agents

i just wanted to find a quiet chair near my gate
within the noisy LAX terminal

preferably a dark corner
with no other passengers within twenty feet

lacking over-molested copies of the LA Times
and the pink sugary crumbs
of well traveled two year olds

ah, there it was
my weary feet and rolling carry-on
made their way toward flight deck utopia

a rounded blue row of seating
right by the tinted night windows

my eyes were swollen from crying
i didn’t want to leave the city
or the love i had come to find there

unable to read, think, have a smoke or a drink
all i had at that moment
was a peaceful spot
in the airport
before my red eye back home

that’s when he walked over
disturbing my solitary meditation

a learned looking man
accompanied by a worn brown leather miami university attache

i suspect he felt safer near a fellow buckeye
smiling as he read my sweatshirt
which reads
college of mortuary science cincinnati

he asked if he could sit
certainly i replied
this area is annexed for Ohio

we exchanged life stories

24 hours he had been on a layover
in Los Angeles
on his way back from China

he said he was a professor

who had been sent there
to teach the chinese
how to slowly kill
the American economy

the exquisite irony
wasn’t lost on me

because he was positively green
his skin gray
eyes glassy
silvery hair dusted black
from breathing particulate from coal plants
and suicide net surrounded factories
floating in the Beijing air for the past three weeks

his shaking hands
pulled out a stash of respirator masks
still in his pocket

the sight horrified me

it was the first time i realized that all was lost

the human race is near extinction

that inconvenient truths are
merely the tip of a melted iceberg
given the reality of irreversible damage


i got up and threw away
the remainder of my give-a-fuck
hearing the girl from ipanema went walking

now boarding boomed

as i traipsed down the ramp to the tin can
not caring as much if it safely landed

full of the knowledge

we’re building cell phone towers
on the corpse of a planet

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

vinnie pupparino’s chipmunk haiku

mama made me stop
why does she love the chipmunks
soft candy squirrels

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends



i could have anything
my heart desires
at this moment
it would be


sitting back to back
holding sunlit court
on a red fleece blanket
in an arboretum

reading our books in silence
as the birds chatter in the trees

feeling nothing
but each other breathing
and page turning

as the world decides
to raise her skirt to the sun
for one more day

Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends

loyal dogs

the fact that we ceased
to be able
to care for each other’s hearts

failed to erase the need
to be loved

but we’ve remained loyal in our odd ways

such simple humans

becoming brutal dogs when injured

if only we shared their capacity for forgiveness