My Brother. RIP.

He was my big brother
The bully and the protector
My opposite and my friend
Larger than life
Louder than life
He was quick to anger
And quicker to laugh
I miss the bully
I miss my protector
I miss the anger
I miss my opposite and friend.
And I miss that laughter
We were as close as brothers can be
And I loved him as a brother does…
My big brother



If you look in the corner, you can see the evidence of a life less traveled. There are specs of dust, pieces of what was in crumbs and skin. These are the pieces you can’t sweep, where the vacuum cannot reach. You can move, but those specs remain. If you pile the specs of our lives in a pile…we can climb high on the forgotten pieces.

And end.

On the road to a known destination

I walk barefoot and bleeding

ever pushing toward the wind blown end of an endless path

I do not see

I do not feel

I do not hear

The roar of a silent crowd

The hands of an invisible foe

The advice of the mute tome

No thought

No smile

Some tears

No fears

Just the path

And my bleeding feet

Looking for an end.

Inner voice.

And if I told you

The truth of me

The outside voice

That never agrees

Would you listen close

To the words left said

The salty prose

From my head

Would you correct

The saddest tone

From this old man

Still not grown

A smile for you

And what you felt

Listening intently

To the hand that’s dealt.


This is no game

As everything stays the same.

On a cloudy day

As everything stays a shade of grey.

Perhaps a small light

As everything stays in the shadowed night.

Could we finally see

As everything fights to be free.

We shake our weary heads

As everything sinks with the weight of lead.

Is there a pinch of hope

As everything dangles on the frayed rope.

I will air on the side of caution

As everything waits on the revelation.

I believe in you

And everything we all can do.

Faith to the many who pray

For everything and one bright day.

Tight rope.

In the quiet

Alone with the dark

Left thinking of nothing

Just what crosses the mind

No interruptions

No pauses to breathe

Only quiet whispers

Telling me what to believe

The whispers are low

Probably not that real

But in the dark they scream

I listen in earnest

And shake this weary head

For the whispers are really

Better off dead.

So I turn on the light

Stare at the room

Look in hidden corners

Just to be sure they aren’t seen

There is a balance to sanity

A rope tight in the mind

I walk it sometimes nightly

Careful of what I may find.


Daddy’s Girl.

Such a little hand

Held out to me

So small in mine

It sets me free

So much hope

On that little face

Turned up with love

An unspoiled grace

And yes she grows

And yes I know

To all, her hands change

But that age doesn’t show

For held out to me

It still sets me free

That unspoiled grace

Always there on that face

No wrinkle can change

No number can blind

Her hand from mine

So small in my mind

For that is the love of a child

An ageless grace

A forever vision

In hand and on face.