Category Archives: fiction


Sometimes I see you, just out of view

out of the corner of an eye, quick as a hummingbird in flight

when I turn my head you’re gone, as if you were none

as if you were never there, vanishing into air

Once I took the last exit, final train of thought so desperate

to that junction where the bridge had crumbled

the road disappeared into rubble

tried to reach you where a harsh wind blew

down a winding path into desolation’s wrath

knocking on closed doors, not knowing what I’m looking for

but no one was home

in this land of desperation I roam

Changed my name a time or two

spinning bullets in a revolver so few

changed my address

another move in this game of chess

a new street in a new town

facing my shadow in a showdown

Tried a new scene, escaping old routines

changed my ways hoping for better days

spent a lifetime dodging Life’s mines

searching for myself, searching for you, searching all the time

knocking on closed doors

never knowing what I’m looking for

but no one was home

in this land of desperation I roam

(Searching originally appeared in the poetry collection, Back Roads)

Broken Stars


Shards of stars glisten brightly in noonday sun

pieces of dreams strewn across an abandoned yard

pick each fragment up, turn them over in my hands

these broken dreams of broken men that never mend

careful not to cut the flesh, dispose of shards in a can

for I will not bleed another man’s regret

many lessons learned but none greater I have met

when the sun shines brightly, stars still shatter yet

and sometimes Illumination is a lie that must be told

because this house was condemned long ago


(from The Evolution of Disconnect)

Red Ball

Red Ball originally appeared in  Urban Hymns




Red ball

I am a ribbon of light along the eastern horizon

gently peeking at this brand new world

gathering courage to rise

growing slowly aware

shattering darkness at dawn

I am a melting yellow sun at noon

spreading across the sky

unstoppable, unfathomable, impossible to look upon

dissolving shadows

reaching my zenith in late afternoon

I am the evening sun in twilight hours

final ribbon of light carrying the particles

pieces of everything complete

disintegrating into a red ball sinking into my horizon

dimming down, once and for all, dying out

particles of being absorbed into the night

The Poet

First published in The Evolution Of Disconnect:


In April of 2014 I had the great opportunity to have a few of my poems critiqued by a gracious and exceptional poet. She highlighted a few of my weaknesses and offered up some great advice to chew on. The focal point of our conversation narrowed down to the poem, Two Doors, about the conflict between the conscious and subconscious mind. In the poem there is a house divided by two doors. One side of the house is brilliantly lit while the other side remains in perpetual darkness. My poet/ tutor was not concerned with the lighted side of the house. She (and any potential reader) only cares about the mysteries hidden in the darkness. What she was conveying, essentially, was that I should stop glossing over facts and events and dig a little deeper for the story. I took her advice to heart and the following day wrote this poem.




On a balcony overlooking a paradox

she offers and I take a seat

a teacher and a poet in a long black dress

shuffling pieces of me in her hands


Questions she asks

prodding with a smile

searching perhaps for something

she believes words can reconcile


Knowing I’m just another surface dweller

the poet scratches my soul

you’re going to need a shovel, she says

to get where you want to go


No one cares about objects shining brightly in a noonday sun

objects plainly seen by everyone

she asks about my house

why I only go into rooms where the light is on


Her penetrating words finger switches

and once darkened rooms reveal decaying corpses

chests inflating with the breath of recognition

mouths repeating lessons learned


Having trained the emotions through the years

how can I begin to describe what she wants to hear?

the look on my mother’s face, how can I forget?

that haunted expression she wore, when I told her what I knew


Another excerpt from The Evolution of Disconnect:


Beaten and emotionally scarred by the years, most of us always manage to find a way to rise up and go back out into the world again. This is Life. It’s what humans do. There are others that may do it better, who don’t seem to fall as far when knocked down, who rebound from defeat quicker, but none of that matters. What’s important is that we do pick ourselves up to fight again. Life isn’t about the success and the failure. Life is all about the learning that comes from the trying. Many scars I have accumulated through the learning.



Through the barbed thistles of life

I’ll run

thorns slicing through the flesh

I’ll run

feel the blood run down my limbs

I’ll run

run without regret

Out on the streets

bring me to my knees

where a cold north wind blows

I’ll rise up

put the wind and troubles to my back

and walk straight into the sun

Cut me with passion

pierce my soul with love

let me slip

watch me fall

and I’ll rise up

just to do it all over again

Love me

accuse me

break my heart in two

‘cause I don’t mind the scars

that come from knowing you

Scars is also about my relation with that unseen force that all physical things originate from. I don’t know what this force is or where it comes from but I do believe in its existence. A universe by design seems plausible to my primitive senses but I don’t know if this force created the universe or was embedded into the fabric of the universe at the time of creation. Or perhaps I’m only inserting a supernatural being into my rationalization at the point where my understanding of the universe ends. I honestly do not know. What I do know is that, like most poets, I’m a seeker searching for answers where others fear to look, inside their souls.



Corn rows outside my window

swaying gently when the wind blows

a soft summer rain

falls across the plain

I’m riding a westbound train

Young girl asks where I’m from

she’s lonely, I know

needs to know the things I’ve done

gazing out the window

notice smoke filled eyes

reflected in the glass

we’re escaping our own demise

two lost souls running from our past

Train rolls across the prairie

thunder in the distance

remembering who I used to be

gentle rumble of memories falling to the ground

if only this instance

this train can take me where my dreams are bound

maybe this time

if I get it right

save my last dime

this train will roll into my goodnight

Young girl asks where I’m from

maybe I shouldn’t have brought her along

wants to know about the tattoo on my arm

when we met we were singing the same sad song

at the next station I’ll tell her she can’t stay

buy her a ticket back to Buffalo

send her on her way

but I know she won’t go

she wants to ride this train

see it all the way through

good times and rain

to the end of the line

stay with me

till the end of time


Another excerpt from The Evolution of Disconnect:

I’ve felt the overwhelming pulse of a big city, a pulse so powerful that it upset the natural rhythm of my body. So many people living on top of so many people can drive a person insane. The white noise of automobiles, busses, trucks, factories, stores, sirens, televisions, morning drive time radio hosts, and people raising their voices over it all drowns out the natural rhythm of the earth, sun, moon, and stars. We have to strike a balance in our lives.


Feel the vibrations of the land

pulse of the sun beating down

clouds are in motion

and I’m riding on an ocean

of sweet sweet emotion

Sun rises

and the sun falls

a harvest moon calls

don’t know much about living

in this unnatural manufactured world

but the Universe’s natural rhythm

recalibrates a lost soul

Feel the rhythm

of a river flowing

a falling rain

when a north wind blows

feel the rhythm

of the sun dying down

colors exploding across the sky

gentle rhythm of the stars

emerging at night

rhythm of my love

flowing effortlessly

through time

Rhythm of the city

disrupts the harmony

so many imprisoned souls

captured in an illusion

of manmade conditions

intended only to destroy

the natural rhythm

of this world

The Evolution of Disconnect is now available on Amazon at Paperback and ebook


The following is an excerpt from The Evolution of Disconnect:


A few years ago Life rooted me out of my cozy little comfort zone of routines and predictability. Spiraling out of control, Circumstance intervened and set me on a path travelling the highways of America, redefining who I am. That journey has ended but there remains a piece of my heart that longs to be a full time drifter, searching back roads and alleys for clues to God and the meaning of existence.  I yearn for the life of a wandering spirit, free and uninhibited, grounded to Mother Earth and the elements. I long to be free.




Sunlight breaks

over distant mountain tops

glistening off frozen creeks

and a snow covered field barren of crops

A frigid north wind cuts

cuts like a knife

and most men lack the guts

to make this pilgrimage in their life

This road I’m on

is empty and I’m alone

a journey of one

is how this is supposed to be

until this journey is done

I’m all I can see

My bags are heavy

and there’s a cross upon my back

punishment has been levied

atoning for sins dressed in black

City squashed my spirit

corporations stole my soul

you attempt to rationalize but I don’t want to hear it

‘cause you’re still on their payroll

Load grows lighter

with each step I take

future grows brighter

as I make my escape

from all the noise

and the manmade pollution

left me little choice

but to run from this illusion

I’m a drifter

on the high plains of consciousness

penetrating deeper and deeper

abandoning self-righteousness

lost on a journey

where freedom is the consequence

and at the end of this discovery

I’ll reach the distant shore of this romance

Future Ghosts

An excerpt from The Evolution of Disconnect:

This idea occurred to me one cold night while sitting with friends who were picking guitar around a fire in their backyard. We were singing. We were drunk. In the background there was an old turn of the 19th century home built of large river rock. An elderly woman lived there and I began to imagine her life in that home, from the time she was a very young woman, freshly married and raising a family, and all the life she had experienced inside those stone walls leading up to today. I became lost in the thought. The next day I wrote Future Ghosts.

Sadly, both our hosts lost their mothers within the month after our visit, adding far greater meaning to this poem than originally intended.



When it’s all said and done

when they come to take you down

years after you are gone

dead and buried in the ground

legacy woven

into the fabric of this universe

when others gather

to contemplate your existence

what will they say

what will they think about you?




Foundations built

crumble and decay

foundations of a soul

can never be taken away

etch your essence

upon minds of others

tattoo your soul

into everything you do

for we are the future ghosts

never to be displaced

never to be replaced



with abandon


with a wild heart


as if this is your only chance

to experience everything

this world has to offer

tattoo your soul

into everything you do

for we are the future ghosts

of this place

When you are dead

dead and gone

and others gather

let them say

as they would no other

her passion burned

with the power of a thousand suns

The Evolution of Disconnect is now available on Amazon at Paperback and ebook