of what first day
of what first hour
a frigid dawn
with northern winds
ice blue sky

how one day slips
into the next
I have no knowledge


escaped me long ago

I wake and groan
like rusting hinges

crawl from bed
to bath
my body
barely erect

this year
I think

I will live

like every other year

only this time
a little better


a little

like time

like days

like years

Image credit:Donald Teel

I’ve been writing poetry since I was a little kid. I think that poetry is probably my native language. In my best work, I think that I’m able to create something that feels like truth. If you find something in my words that move you, something that makes you smile , something which gives you pause for reflection , then I’m grateful. I sell real estate from time to time, and in moments of grace or despair, joy or terror, times of wonder and gratitude, I sail about in my good old ketch , Further.

Further - a distance that can’t be measured.