summer began with

the long drive to get there

grandma's front porch

from rice and old bottle caps

we made our own tambourines

the steady gaze

of gravediggers

two with clenched hands

as though they were still

holding their shovels

Tribute to Vivian Maier

out here

in no man's land

the deserted fountain

where I turned my ankle

is that what you wished for

waves of color

an artist transports me

to the Ligurian Sea

the raised flags of galleons

in the mist of uncertainties

survivorship

what if the person 

who taught you how to swim 

was the same person who held you 

under water hoping you'd drown

black-coated scratchboards

we create our own

vision

of radio filaments 

found in the milky way

Milky Way 1,000

restless pacing

the jangled nerves

of throwaway keys

how being stressed out

starts on the inside

it's not the steps

or the four flights of stairs

to room 458--

what bothers me is knowing

that you won't be there

the test results

on my phone ignored

day of the dead hike

one last hill to climb

before going home

with feverish

intensity

the autumn leaves

and my desire 

to walk with you again 

Das Unheimlich

"...intellectual uncertainty; so that the uncanny would always, as it were, be something one does not know one’s way about in."

~Ernst Jentsch, On the Psychology of the Uncanny

a turtle's shell slowly

decomposing in the weeds

of a cemetery

how many unmarked remains

under these stones

vacation pictures 

taken at the edge of a cliff

the past not nearly

as exhilarating as when

it was our future

I still have

the mirror you gave me

with its gold-plated roses

not long after you

dislocated my jaw

another layer added

to the earth's core

so many chapters 

in this novel 

we may never finish

mom's birthday

so close to christmas

memories of you

in every star

that lights the tree

Happy Birthday, Mom!

(1919-1996)

"From Russia With Love," 

a James Bond poster 

in the antique shop...

it's then I realize that I'm older

than half the merchandise

leaves with ragged edges

recomposing 

the summer light

a note here and there

softens the emptiness

on a country road 
without cell phone service
we find ourselves
heading north towards 
iowa from east jesus

with the extra light
in january's time-zone
I try to decipher
the last pages
of animal tracks

news surrounding
the latest plane crash
on a foggy afternoon 
did a missile take down
TWA Flight 800