Poem of the Day 1/28/21


Sitting, like Rodgers Hornsby, looking

Out the window at the bleak winter day

Waiting- yes, for Spring- for the green grass

And the heralding crack of bats,

For Trout and Mookie and Thor, X-man and Judge, the Polar Bear,

For days less full of nights, certainly

But waiting, also for you and me,

For that version of you and me,

Wandering in lone back fields

And riding rough pine beams

Or watching quietly at night

For sometime we have not seen

Yet in the old ballgame,

Quiet, with sweet anticipation,

Waiting, once again,

For the smallest shred of magic to be reborn,

In a Spring night’s journey home.


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Poem of the Day 1/26/21


Against the fog

The stanchions of the bridge

Stand solitary, alone

Rising from the void

Of hazy white

As if someone has just painted them there

And left the canvas uncluttered

With any notion of a destination ahead

That we might journey into the yet unimagined

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Poem of the Day 1/21/21


Static was, of course,

His constant companion.

The low, dull roar of a wave

Neither crashing nor ebbing,

In unending roar,

Toward a never reached shore.

It walked with him.

It drove with him.

It layed down with him

The soundtrack of his days-

The Vacant space between

Radio Stations and CB transmissions-

This was his truest friend

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Poem of the Day 1/11/21


This poem was written in the beautiful dos-a-dos notebook made for me by the incredible Shannon Kerner @

The musician dreams

Of playing in the skeleton key

To open every heart

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Poem of the Day 1/5/20


Looking up at the cover of clouds,

I am reminded of being a child

Of fanciful games played under blankets,

The haze of cloth obscuring the light.

Those games would end, always,

When the air grew heavy and thick

And the imagined roof became only an obstacle,

Keeping me from the cool, clean air.

And I would rise up and wave my hands

And shake off the oppressive shroud.

Under the cover of clouds, now, though

I can only turn my head down,

Pull my collar up against the wind

And hope tomorrow,

There will again be the sky.

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Thank you for reading. Stay Strange.