NANTICOKE 1926
My mother at home in Nanticoke, Pennsylvania Dust of the coal mines on the window sill lightened to gray by a gentle snow, our
June 29, 2026
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My mother at home in Nanticoke, Pennsylvania Dust of the coal mines on the window sill lightened to gray by a gentle snow, our
Exquisite Silence Mountain ridge panoramic view sky draining of blue and white and flowing towards the brilliant orange fire of sunset. Distant lines of hills
Cute baby in a high chair poised like a CEO at the head of the table all eyes upon her, or is it a boy?
This poem was sparked by an interviewer asking a guy beside me at the Moral Monday protest, “What is the issue that brings you here?”
The shock of birds of prey came home to roost this week on our suburban lake. The still patience of the Great Blue Heron has
Brilliant white floats amid dusky reflections, grays billowing above, darkest green of lake below. The last orange fixes one cloud in nature’s spotlight, the last
Dis here is Nawlins in all its funk and jive and stink and rhythm, pulsing endlessly from bars, cafes and corner joints, calling without cease
What is a riff? Jazz swing distilled to an absolute coolness short repeatable ‘nuff said!
Sitting alone in Preservation Hall such an unexpected gift. Echoes of jazz men past, and women like Sweet Emma, over 50 years of sweat and
Summer finally vanquished cool breeze of fall welcomed through the bedroom window a bit chilly all night under warm weather sheets. As the black lightens
The vines are withering yet a few tomatoes miraculously ripen some each day. No birds or insects defile this fertile fading. Smaller and less robust
There is no Art, nor is there Life. No loss, no gain, no us, no them. All our categories and labels, divisions and distinctions, are