
there once was a red-eyed old ghoul
who haunted a broken-down school
till the townsfolk all came
with their torches aflame–
now he lives in the woods as a rule

–photo/art by me

there once was a red-eyed old ghoul
who haunted a broken-down school
till the townsfolk all came
with their torches aflame–
now he lives in the woods as a rule

–photo/art by me

there once
was a self-righteous man
who built
himself a tall, open tower
from which
he would peer out over
his world
to search for his soul.
every day,
he would climb the stairs
and scour
the heavens for it;
sometimes,
he felt it was near.
in time,
it was too much for him,
and the
self-righteous man died.
in silence,
his soul flew from the roof
–photo by me




–photos by me

I went looking for a nice flower foto for the blog. It was very hot out, but I just needed one good one, so I ventured into the woods and down to the pond. What a mistake!
Suddenly there were swarms of deer flies all around me. I took off running, but to no avail; they circled me like I was standing still. And then it got bad. They were in my shirt and under my glasses; I was afraid they would get in my mouth.
I ran blindly through the woods until I came back out on the road. Walking home, I was shaken and rather bummed that I didn’t get the shot, but so glad to be home. I was about to go in, when–you guessed it–there it was, not ten feet from my door: my flower foto!
–Photo by me

nature loves painting
beautiful wildflowers
on roadside landscapes.
i picture her as a girl,
hopping and skipping
along the ditches,
accidentally on purpose
spilling and splattering
her summer colors
with reckless abandon,
and leaving a trail
of beauty behind.
–photo by me

before telling a joke,
you must get it;
after breaking a bone,
you must set it;
before bathing a cat,
you must pet it;
after writing a poem,
you must edit.
–photo by me

your neighbor’s eye is fixed on you
for she’s intrigued by all you do
so don’t get mad and call her out
but give her ‘things’ to talk about
and then take solace in the thought
that you can do ‘things’ she cannot
so start the show and have some fun
before your audience of one
–photo by me

we may see our lives
as far too overcrowded–
and still feel alone
–photo by me

His name was Jack Pine
And he died for our sins;
Still he stands there in line
With his wires and pins.
While other trees ’round
Freely reach for the sky,
He is lashed to the ground
Without roots and bone-dry.
There once came a day
When his wires went dead
For man found a way
To use cell phones instead;
Still he stands there in line
As a new age begins–
His name was Jack Pine
And he died for our sins.
–photo by me




–photos by me