Back on the horse

Hello to the few folks who follow this site. It happened and I’ve gotten back on the horse and submitted a lot of work to various poetry publications, even entering two chapbook contests. It’s been a while since I had any work to submit and if feels good to have material again.

And since I spent a lot of time writing and editing poems, I decided to re-visit the old fiction I’d written though the years to see if there is anything there. I did submit a short story I really like to “Analog Science Fiction and Fact” not too long ago and ironically enough it was the same short story I submitted in 2015 that got rejected! The version I sent now is edited quite a bit and much better (in my opinion) so I’m hoping for a different result this time around.

Anyway, he’s to enjoying my Sunday with some coffee and editing!

Hello, again!

Hello! It’s been some time (4 years?) since my last post. So much has come and gone. So much has changed and remained the same. I plan on making more posts in the coming year as I get back to writing and submitting work. Here is something from a new chapbook that’s been sent out into the world for possible publication. As the little calendar on my desk says today – “…there is always a time for gratitude and new beginnings.”

Early mornings

The world stirs
in those quiet moments:

wind
through mesquite branches,

a distant bird’s song.

The sun peeks
over the horizon,
and the gentle glow
calls in the new day.

A hint of dew
in the grass
catches my footsteps,

watching cars pass
to the sound of dogs
barking in the distance.

I watch
as the world wakes
with the symphony
of early mornings.

Don’t Forget

Don’t forget
that I was young once.
Not young like morning
sunshine stretched out
over fleece blankets;

more like the afternoon rain
that dreams of thunder
and lightning, and clouds
of soft gray.

Young like the air
after it storms, lost in early fall,
still cool enough to sit enamored
with the smell
of an old hooded sweatshirt,

draped like a funeral cape
over my shoulders.

A morning dance

Creativity burns so quickly,
like a struck match,
bright and fast,
leaving whispers of
sulfurous smoke,
illegible words strewn
around a notebook.

The words dance like
snowflakes on a wind-swept
sidewalk,
circling into small drifts
along the edges
of the page.

There is nothing else to do
but dance in the mess
of crooked letters
that carry my mind’s
revelry.

An early morning dance
between me and the words
I’ve yet to find,
between the pages
of a coffee-stained notebook.