The shortest distance

Between two points

Is no distance

If gravity tugs

If you begin to drift

Remember the string

That warm red thread

tied at each end

Around your soul and mine


And reel in

that shimmering fish

Of rainbow scales

My wandering mind

Don’t fear the labyrinth

Lie down here beside me

I’ll encircle you

Pull you closer

And get lost in you again.



Words and image are my own.





We are alive




April Coda


Set it up

Strip it down

Watch the whizz-bangs Charlie

No time to sniff the clover

Ol’ Fritz’s on his way


Passchendaele to Steenvoorde

On down to Longuenesse

Somethin’s up but no one’s talkin’

Now it’s Rosieres and

Me bloody boots are knackered


Strip it down

Set it up

Forgot me gasmask on the train

Sarge’ll have me taters

If the alarm goes in the line


From Nesle on to Béthencourt

Dug in by the rank canal

There’s bluebells by the water

Reminding me of home

What I’d give to see ’em all again


Load ‘er up

Swing her round

Targets over on the slope

And five hundred rounds a minute

Ain’t hardly enough to count


Pullin’ out for Hallu now

Then back again to Rosieres

Sixty new belt boxes

Got me feelin’ windy

Sure wish I hadn’t lost that mask


Line us up

Strip us down

Too few to make four Companies

A into C and B into D and

Then there were just two.


From  Rouvrel to Castel

Dug in on the heights

Sending lead over the valley ’til

A whistling shell

Brings a red flower to our pit


Lay me down

Strip my boots

They’re useless to me now

Drop me in a hole in Conty

They’ll remember me eventually.


For John Harry.









New Year’s Day


Brand new start


Bird with a song

Like a squeaky shopping cart

Just a flitting shadow against

The bedroom curtains

Catching bugs on the Fly-wire

Sunlight makes bright


On the dark drapes

That hold the new day

The new Year

At bay

Dog snores softly in her bed

Oblivious to the bitter cold

Pressing against the window glass

The first day of the year

Gets off to a slow start.





I’d like to wish all who are reading this a very happy, safe, and healthy 2018.



Words are my own.








Fields of Mars

War is rape

And mother’s tears

Blackened skies

And the dissociative brain

War is a forest of crosses

Or stars

Or crescents

The mixing of mud and blood

It is fierce

Hotter than flames

Colder than winter

War is the rage of machines

Don’t look into its eye

Lest it notice you

For once it does

It will steal your children.



Words and image are my own.



Change in Mood




Life reflects


The russet tones of a naked spinney

Skeleton trees under a daylight moon

Cold nips

At the tips

Of fingers and nose

Harbinger of something on its way


The finger bones of trees

Grasp at the clear, heavy air

While frost


Their former gowns

Diamantes for the newly dead


This is my brave new world

Land of my endless yearning



Extreme as its seasons

And as beautiful as a late Autumn morning.








Words and images are my own.







The Prince2.jpg


Tales of Princes


He makes his throne of pillows

And sets himself atop

Master of the bed (and all beds)

Lording it over the room with

The best views in the house

One window overlooks

His dominions

The other affords sight-line

To the domain of his

Neighborhood rival

(That insolent cur)

From this vantage point

He may loudly voice his displeasure

Or sleep away the afternoon

Entirely at his discretion

You’d think him Emperor of China

Not second dog on the totem pole.





Words and image are my own.