Friday, July 27, 2012


Photo by S. Auberle

I imagine you, Vincent,
on a summer morning
in your village in Provence,
whispering to yourself,
arranging sunflowers
in a blue vase.

I see you painting them,
over and over--your symbols of hope
that you will awaken one day
into a sunny world,
leaving behind your darkness
of potato eaters and crows.

But o, Vincent,
how brief the dance...
how quickly blossoms fade,
leaving behind only hope
and a trail of yellow petals
to follow into the sun.


an old poem, and one I may have posted years ago, but o well, I like it...

Thursday, July 19, 2012


Photo by R. Murre

Yes, this is an old saying, but one that bears repeating often, I think...

"You've gotta dance
like there's nobody watching,
love like you'll never be hurt,
sing like there's nobody listening,
and live like it's heaven on earth."

~  William W. Purkey

Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Photo by S. Auberle


who never got to grow old…
born the year after me, who did.
Her beautiful bones stricken
by the atom bomb disease,
she was only two
when Hiroshima was bombed,
and though spared that awful day,
the poison lurked within,
and ten years later consumed her.

Only because I was born
across the world, did I receive
 the gift of growing old

and when these bones
of mine are ash, fling them
into the sky, into wind
and my beloved lake,
return them to earth,
let them make a tree.

Mix my ashes with Sadako
and all those who have died
and are dying everyday,
in our still-misguided

attempts at ending war.
Blend me into that soul
waiting to be born, the one
who will finally  bring peace,
for until we learn, there is nothing--
not even a thousand cranes--
that can save us now.


*Sadako Sasaki is a heroine to the children of Japan,
who visit her memorial in the Hiroshima Peace Park
to leave the paper cranes they make in her honor.

Monday, July 09, 2012


Photo by S. Auberle

the bouquet
of fresh tarragon
and rosemary
a friend gave to me

forest moss
my lover and I
lay on
one summer day...

still, the doe
beside the road

her eyes
the dark

are the

I've ever seen...


Wednesday, July 04, 2012


Photo by R. Murre


Discover your alter ego.  Yes, we all have them.  Mine is Vanessa, though now that I've revealed her name, she'll probably change it.  To say she is mysterious would be a vast understatement.  Mostly she appears when needed, for instance, when I'm (trying) to write an erotic poem.  Let me show you how she'll say in her husky whisper.  Or the time she persuaded me to paint my bedroom walls a deep lipstick red and, as if that wasn't enough, insisted I buy red sheets.  She'd read somewhere that the Chinese believe red is the color of love, and that was enough for her.  She has great appetites, for which she puts forth absolutely no apology.  And music has always been her passion and weakness.  Last night as we were sitting outside listening to music at sunset, she demanded that O Mio Babbino Caro be played over and over again.  The reason being, she whispered, was that a cardinal and two robins were singing along.  (And they were, I tell you.)  Then it had to be Pavarotti serenading a chorus of crows with Nessum Dorma, as the full moon began to rise above the orchard.  All in all, thanks to Vanessa, a fine concert.  She knows these things and reminds me, which is all to the good.  But she can also take me down roads I might not have intended to go.  Though, in the end, they usually turn out quite wonderful.  And always, she reminds me--we're only small coins in the hands of Eternity.

Tuesday, July 03, 2012


Photo by S. Auberle
So I'm sittin' out here in the swing listening to a red bird sing, eating raspberries and cherries and tossin' the pits into my lily of the valley garden where I hope tiny cherry trees will spring up one day and shower the flowers and that person who lives here after I am gone with fragrance and blossoms from me in the hereafter…