poetry, Publications, Writing Portfolio

Land of the South

Land of the South


Blue hazed mountains are my bones. 
Running rivers are my veins. 
Trees stretch high into my thoughts. 
Lone coyotes howl my pain. 

Wind tousles my grassy hair. 
Cattle march to my heart’s beat. 
A star-filled night blankets my eyes. 
Whippoorwills sing my melody. 

Under the mountain sits my house. 
Here I find rest; here is my home. 
Here, in this land of the south, 
I write the songs of my soul. 


Published in The Tennessee Magazine (July 2018)
Photo by Mike Lento

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poetry, Writing Portfolio

Chasing the Moon

Chasing the Moon


There was a man who chased the moon. 
He said it was for love. 
I chased him round until we flew, 
The ground beneath us gone. 

The stars all looked like splintered glass 
With emptiness between. 
I asked him why we floated so. 
He said it was for love. 

A floating, wandering, unkempt love 
In search of a lost moon. 
He said the ground was too below, 
And us, we’re too far gone. 

This love is new and rich, I thought, 
Unlike I’ve ever seen. 
She’s chased and chased, but never caught. 
I asked him why he cared. 

“Unsafe, unknown, and wild, this love, 
But would you ever know? 
Her smile at night and pale, white light 
I’d rather chase than forgo.” 


Photo by I 

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poetry

Melody

Melody


Music. Swirling, twirling. A floating note, floating higher higher. Gone. 

There are some unlike anything else. There are some swinging singing running faster and faster. These are some unlike anything else.  

Exciting flying dipping lower going under and around such sound of going and going and going faster. Notes. Blowing flutes beating drums running until we are flying and flying over and over. This is something unlike anything else. 

Voices floating glowing high and low below over and under. Hundreds. Loud proud and singing music. These are some unlike any other. 

Sound abounds and love and hate and life and violins and love, and dying crying escaping weight and hatred. Notes laughing dancing chanting curling and unfurling. The music is here and here and here but not there. But hear. 

It is something unlike anything else. 

Photo by Vlah Dumitru

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