Just published, Book III

SEA GLASS SOUL - Invisible Colors, Poems and Paintings

My poetry and Pat Morgan's art - available at,
The Sea Glass Poetry Trilogy is now complete.

Sunday, December 26, 2010


No second thoughts:

They only limit,

Say stop,

Promise a fall

Like a nervous parent.

They are born in fear;

They never come from God.

Sunday, December 19, 2010


From deep in my marrow
With her icy blue winter and
Frozen unyielding ground
Too hard to harbor deep roots,
She cries, but I'll never call her home.

My Russian grandparents must have
Lovingly laughed with raw cheeks
Protecting a warm spot in their hearts
Thinking of their children, else
They never would have made love.

My American parents never spoke
Of a motherland so I was silent too.
Their parents' frigid past failed to melt
Leaving an unexplained thirst.
No stories of survival survived.

Yet, I am most certain they are there
In my soul's DNA. For at the symphony
When the strings strike a minor chord
Or the horns blow a dissonant sound,
I respond beyond reason.

I AM SEA GLASS - A Collection of Poetic Pieces 
(available at

Sunday, December 5, 2010



Those who gossip to you
About their brothers
Will gossip about you
When with some others.


Three people
Are hurt by
The gossiper's tongue:
The fool who listened,
The one described
And the bird who sung.

Sunday, November 28, 2010



Saturday, November 20, 2010


Here, surrounded
By warm noise
Chattering patrons
Gossiping regulars
Jazz from the City
I feel comfortable
As though home.
Even on a cloudy day
They keep the lights low
And my mind
Slows to dim.
Coffee in a sailor’s mug
Arrives at my table
As I sit down alone
With room for six.
Without offering a menu
The owner takes my order.
He calls me warmly by name
And I thank him
The same way.
I return day after day
To read, write, eat
And nourish my soul.
They know me here;
I feel love.

Saturday, November 13, 2010


The sixth lesson                                                                  
Watercolor by Pat Morgan
That taught me to survive
Wasn’t any deeper
Than the previous five.

The fifth knock
That opened the door
Wasn’t any louder
Than the previous four.

The fourth blow
That split the tree
Wasn’t any harder
Than the previous three.

The third stone
That twinkled like new
Wasn’t more precious
Than the previous two.

The second effort
That got the job done
Wasn’t any greater
Than the previous one.

This last stanza
That needed to be said
Wasn’t profounder than
Those already read.

Sunday, November 7, 2010


Ocean envies land
Striking it wave after wave
Washing it away
Resorting to tsunami
To soak it miles in.

Land envies mountain
Shaking it to its core
Quaking it till it falls
Loving each avalanche
It can cause.

Mountain envies sky
Blocking the light
Channeling the wind
Creating rain on one side
Desert on the other.

Sky envies ocean
Blowing hard over it
Whipping up whitecaps
Making unwilling waves
Crash against the rocks.

Ocean, Land,
Mountain, Sky
Were perfect
Before there was envy;
Envy ruined everything.

Sunday, October 31, 2010


Living in the
Past tense

Counting cents
Taking offence
Doing what
Makes no sense

Horse sense
Living in the
Present tense


Thursday, October 28, 2010


Be ruthless
Editing is
A heartless

Poems live not
By their wits
But by
Their words.

Don’t use
When eighteen
Will do.

Extraneous words
Until only
Heart remains.

Sunday, October 17, 2010


Born a man
Alone In Eden
With no past,
Unable to grasp
His reality:
Prickery plants,
Shapes that moved
In the shadows,
What was real
The dagger of doubt
Or the voice in his head?

Early twilight,
The light began to change,
He noticed it before
He realized it,
The shadows were gone,
Squinting no longer helped.
Something was wrong!
He could taste sweat
With his tongue,
He felt a pounding
In his chest.

Night brought on
Confusion, then panic.
He sat on the ground
Nothing that day
Prepared him
For the darkness.
He thought
This must be death.
Lying down he slept
For the first time.

Morning light awoke him,
Faith was born.

Sunday, October 10, 2010


She was a brilliant sunburst
Doubling the day light.
His binary partner star
Circling him forever.
A splendid supernova
Expanding his universe.
A blue-white twinkle
In his heavenly sky.
The night she drove away,
He could still see her in the distance.

Sunday, October 3, 2010


Watercolor by Barry Pariser
There must be a reason
The giant, hulking
Stands silently
With aching shoulders
And grey, tired eyes.
Has he seen too much?
From his lofty view
Above the tall grass
Has he taken in all
The light and loss
His world has to offer.
Has there been
Too many trumpeted calls
To fight to survive
Or maybe flee
For the sake of another tomorrow.
Now he is tired and mostly
Glad to be ignored.
Then on rare occasion
A young male stands near him
And seemingly by sheer proximity
Tries to absorb his solitary strength.
Our giant from a time long past,
Stands very still and
Simply closes his eyes.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010


As open parentheses long for one to close
A thoughtful gift waits for a grateful note.

As slippers seek to cover their owner’s toes
A windy day calls for both hat and coat.

As puckered lips desire their beloved’s mouth
An unanswered sigh makes romance more remote.

As autumn makes birds yearn to fly south
A sailor stuck on land pines for his boat.
As Abbott would be lost without Costello
Costello on his own would be a cheerless fellow.

Friday, September 24, 2010


Sarah’s eight decades
Hadn’t diminished
Her desire to be touched,
Weakened the want
Of warm lips
To press against hers or
Gentle arms around her waist
To pull her close
On a chilly night.
During their courtship
He had been a kind, faultless gentleman
Holding doors and
Standing till she was seated
Giving in to her every want and
Barely a peck on the cheek
At the end of the evening.
He’d hold her arm
As they crossed an icy street
But not her hand
As they watched the sunset.
He was her wingless angel,
A late in life partner
Set on pleasing her
Giving her trips
To the pyramids and the Panama Canal
But unwilling to touch her soft skin
As the tropic sun turned it brown.
Sarah never complained
But after he was gone
She told her daughter
She wanted
A warmer blanket.

SEA GLASS PEOPLE - Portraits in Words and Watercolors   (available on

Friday, September 17, 2010


I’d be first on the beach
If not for the gulls
There before the sun
Feasting without satiation.

Tap, Tap, TAP
Crack, a hole
Death intrudes
Without invitation.

To a crustacean
A gull’s heart
Is as hard
As its beak.

The sun now
Five fingers above
The horizon
I’m late for breakfast.

Left behind
My footsteps pass
A seashell landfill
But no remorse.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

INHERITANCE - For Denia and Jess

I’m pained
I placed
My rock
In your shoe
Not realizing
It’d become
An enduring part
Of you.

Raising you
I was living my
Imperfect life.
I realize now
My ways
Were cutting deep
Like a knife.

As a fish
Is unaware of water,
I was oblivious
To my will.
Through your inheritance
You’re living
With it still.

I’ve given you
Worthwhile gifts
Along with them
Came a stone.
Forgive me
It’s your life
Work hard
Make it your own.

Saturday, September 11, 2010



I was in a terrible mood
As I walked the waterline along the beach.
Cynthia broke up with me last night
Claimed I was running away from our problem
Not willing to face it.
So I drove away and ran to the shore.
I was alone in pain watching waves and
Crushing discarded shells as I walked.

My eye caught a splash of color,
A crab’s claw not the crab just the claw.
Transfixed by its beautiful blue arm and red pointed pincers,
I felt the awful pain it caused
As it brought its catch to its mouth
Scooped up the claw in a clam shell
Brought it back to my rented room
Placed it on the night table next to the phone and lamp.

I moped through the rest of the day falling asleep
After finishing my third beer and a bottle of tequila.
Sleep offered little relief from my pain
Consciousness seemed far away when I first heard the tapping.
Tap, tap, tap
Like something striking the lamp base
Growing louder and louder until
I opened my eyes and turned on the light.

The claw sat in the shell motionless. I stared at it
Expecting it to move to tap the lamp base
One more time. I waited.
It did not move.
The message light was blinking.
It was Cynthia. She wanted to hear
My voice. It was 2 a.m. when I called her back.
Could she come to the shore so we could talk?

How does one feel when sunlight finds a crack
In the clouds and lights the ground?
I whispered “yes” and silently started to cry.
At dawn while waiting for her by the shore
Watching the waves, I took the blue and red crab claw
With its painful pincers and threw it back into the sea
Where it belonged.
It no longer interested me.