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, October 30, 2011


Woman bared in the window
Moonlight makes her skin glow
What does she know that
She’s staring at me so?

Has she no modesty
Where is my chivalry
As I walk past her property
Why aren’t I faultlessly free
To turn away and go?

Sunday, October 23, 2011


Watercolor by Pat Morgan

Alabama cowgirl,                                  
Out of all my things
You took my boot
To keep near.
Mostly on the move
Like fairy dust in the wind,
Occasionally you’d land
Setting my boot right next to you,
Companion – Sentry – Reminder.    
Your beautiful mother
Gave you your blond hair
And round face.
What did I give you?
Not my boot,
You took that yourself.
Keep it near you
Like a loyal friend,
Not for your small foot,
But for your big heart.

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

Monday, October 17, 2011


                                    Moses sits in the flap opening of his tent
Squinting against the blinding desert light,
Tired after forty years
Of royal responsibility
Thinking about the future,
The tribes’, his.

The other side of the Jordan is the future
For the sons of the sons of Jacob,
But not Moses.
The men will cross first to face those
Who’d stand against Israel’s destiny
While he sits like a monument.

The sand underneath him 
Is brutally hot like his inner turmoil.
He will not see Canaan.  He will die soon.
He’s been sentenced without appeal
For using force while seeking water when
God told him to speak and water would flow.

He’s angry at the people,
Incessant complainers,
Angry at himself for being momentarily weak,
Angry at God for his exalted expectations,
Angry at being angry,
Still there’s no relief.

Someday Job will get a chance
To argue directly with God.  And live.
But Moses, the humblest man alive,
Shortly after his anger assuages
Will quietly close his eyes
On this side of the Jordan.

Monday, October 10, 2011


The sun, a star, a ball of hot gas,
Just rose past the horizon.
First morning light has found
A crack in the window blinds.
From my hospital bed,
White sheets so stiff and pure
They almost smother,
I see signs of day invade.

By 10, in surgery,
I’m out of my mind.
My belly distended by gas
They enter, cut and suture
Fixing all that is wrong inside me.
Back in my room, they’ve made a mistake
Leaving the blinds wide open I see a yellow moon
As round as the sun.  Thank God, it’s evening.
They are done. I am still alive.

From my hospital bed,
White sheets so stiff and pure
They almost smother,
I know what I must do
When I leave this place.
I must fix those parts of me
They did not know nor could have fixed.