‘just let me change into something less visible’

he walked whistling by the graveyard

but only because the gate was locked

the security guard was in his line of sight

and he was wearing a shirt and tie

(and they – shirts and ties – have no love of climbing wrought iron)


personally, i think thomas is a hero

i believe in 





i believe i am nothing without them.

i believe they make me a better me.

i believe one of the greatest miracles of life and us, dear,

is a predisposition in *all* of us 

to hope,

to swing hard, to be bold in our hearts, to endure instead of surrender

because it means, i think, we are *meant* to hope, 

and if we are meant to hope,

(almost silly how simple, is it not?)

there is a reason to expect Hope be


‘oh – there goes dad – i’ll get the wet-dry vac’

love looks like
a father of a father
who suddenly no longer smells of cigarettes
melting into the living room carpet
his laughter alive and intermingling
with chirps and grinning gurgles
of his baby daughter, grand.

a father, paranoid

shoulder high silhouette  

in my darkened dining room

as i mount the stairs and then pause eyebrows taut and pensive 

sleeping child and wife above

microwaved nachos and a bowl of salsa in my hands

i turn back and down the stairs

and bravely face the opening from foyer into darkened dining room

yes, i see you

mylar balloon i forgot was in here

no my heart is not racing 

do not be stupid you are a balloon

goodnight keep an eye out for intruders.