Places everyone!
Ready to shine?

Almost time to
Look divine!

Brief and bold.
Happy and gold.


Hurricane Oscar

Storm’s a-brewin’
It’s comin’ this way

Ominous clouds
In the sky today.

Waves are a-crashin’
Briny and thick

Wind’s picking up
So evacuate quick!

It’s about to get ugly!
Take heed! You’ve been warned!

He’s headed this way!
He’s clearly been scorned!

Stay out of his path
‘Til the thrashing subsides

It won’t be long now
‘Til he’s spent and decides

Everything’s fine.
Wanna shoot some hoops???

Birthday Haiku for Papa Jer

And because of you,
Everything is possible.
Chris. These boys. This life.

Moms Don’t Take Sick Days

When a mom’s feeling sick
Fighting the ick
Everyone still needs to eat!

After cookies are tossed,
Clothes still need to be washed.
So, soldier up! Back on your feet!

As you shake off that sneeze…
Grab the sports gear and keys…
And deliver your kid to the game…

Take heart in knowing
As you make your brave showing
There’s another mom doing the same.

What I Hate Most

In the morning, you took cupcakes to school
Topped with pics of your lovely face
Smiling, holding up fingers
Of how old you are now.

In the afternoon soiled on the ground
Discarded by the parking lot
A picture of your lovely face
Smiling, holding up fingers
Of how old you are now
With scribbled devil horns and mustache.

I hid that pic inside my pocket
Next to my sinking heart
And wept a little knowing
The truth of being a human kid.

I remembered the girl
Inside of me
Who was called “Two Ton Titanic Tall Titties”
For being too tall and developed
For 4th grade.

I remembered the girl
With the beautiful name
That seemed foreign and funny
To my hillbilly ears

That name that I mocked aloud with my hillbilly friend
Until I could see in the blazing eyes on her sad face
That she was NOT out of ear shot.
She heard. She knew.

No apology could make her forget
That I was as ugly as everyone else.

What I hate most is knowing
That you will experience and perpetuate ugliness.

Will get punched and punch back.
Your hearts will be broken.
You will feel unwanted and disliked.
And you will feel the heat and shame
Of being mean, being wrong.

No attempt to wrap you in cotton and kisses
Will protect you from your own humanity.

Sick Baby

Sweet Boy,
Sleep now.

Mama needs rest
And so do you.

So fight the urge
To wake and purge

To cough and sputter
With every tummy flutter

Hush now.

Mama needs rest
And so do you.


Exhibit A (the first in many such exhibits): The laundry that was barely finished and haphazardly hung and closed inside our laundry closet just moments before we were expecting company…

Everything’s done
But nothing’s done well.

I’m hearing, “It’s FINE!”
But inside I can tell.

My usual crispness
Is going to hell.

Everything’s done
But nothing’s done well.

Walk to Work

Outside the swinging garage entry,
Bread bakes.
Pastries cool.
Garlic roasts.
Children laugh and poke and spill from buses.
Sampson the Horse patrols majestically.

And the man who used to be somebody’s baby
Sits solitary and resigned on the bench
Receiving the shower
That dampens his skin, his hair, his worldly possessions.

Flowers bloom.
Workers scurry.
Couples pose next to the rose garden.
Statues loom.
Cars whiz, honk, screech, thump.
Concrete giants stand passionless against the gray sky.

Little Florist

Little Florist:
How did you know
That every flower in this bouquet is my favorite,
That everything touched by your perfect fingers is magical,
That THIS is what I needed today,
That YOU are the most extraordinary centerpiece
And the mere sight of you makes me want to weep with joy?


Here is the boy
Who’s gentle and sweet
Mild and meek
Who just wants to please.

Here is the boy who even in death
Was easy.