My Favorite Photo of 2015

I’m no photographer. In fact, Mr. Kodak and Mr. Polaroid will come together in Kodachrome Instamatic heaven to weep inconsolably at my ineptitude, but if it reunites them can that be a bad thing?

But even the worst photographer gets a break now and then. This is most likely the most beautiful photo ever taken by anyone. I believe the photography gods were smiling down on me on this one allowing me to capture my niece Hanna on her wedding day in Guatemala.


So take that, Mr. Kodak and Mr. Polaroid. And even that Ansel Adams dude. 

Peace, people!


BBs and Grandsons

some days are
for relaxing
for doing nothing
at all except
maybe climbing
skinny trees
and shooting
bottles with
a pump action bb
gun, making up
rules as we go
along, like
every time we
shoot, but miss,
we get to take
one giant step
forward, but if
we hit the target,
(an empty creme soda
bottle) we have to
walk backwards two
baby steps and
continue shooting
until the bottle
is decimated.
sometimes we have
to dig holes whilst
waiting on an adult
to drink another
bottle of soda for
the next go round.


To Scale

Heart to heart
Mind over matter
Shifted priorities
Discerned differences
Follow the heart’s desire
Listen to the mind’s measure
Balance perceived risks and rewards
Everything worthwhile is weighed
Even breaths and heartbeats
Register on life’s scales
Tipping is recommended
Just a thumb on hold
Changing outcomes

Annual Report

WordPress occasionally annoys me, but most of the time I’m incredibly grateful for this wonderful platform they provide for my musings. The annual report provided by the good folks at WordPress is just one of the ways in which they support bloggers. The statistics are helpful and if I were a more analytical person I’m sure I would figure out a way to make them work for me.

Celebrating my year end report with Kringle, my elf friend

Blank Space

if i were an artist
and this page a canvas
i might simply leave it
just as it is and exclaim,
it is done!
this is it!
i’ll call it

curators might declare
my work the best ever done
and offer it at auction for
thousands of dollars,
bidders would clamor to add
to their private collections.

but a writer cannot
leave the space blank.
i tried.

and the writer cannot
on the page because
that defeats the purpose.

it’s a conundrum, really.

I need a DIY Abstract Writing Tutorial.

Peace, people!

Waiting On Grandchildren

Grandchildren are
life changers,
deal sealers
harbingers of better
days to come,
like spring’s first
Waiting for their
promised arrival
with countless
pacings to the
curtains pushed aside
every crunch
on the drive,
each distant 
waxing then waning in
doppler-tuned ears.
And then a glimpse,
a hush
and a rush of
Hold still
Stay awhile.

Things Bill Belichick Would Rather Particpate in Than a Post-Game News Conference

If you aren’t an American football fan you won’t be interested in this post at all. So feel free to tune out, you won’t hurt my feelings. 

Studly Doright and I were snickering while watching New England Patriots’ taciturn coach, the great Bill Belichick at his best/worst during the press conference following a loss to the New York Jets. Our snickers soon turned to a hypothetical, “What would Bill rather be doing right this minute?” 

1) Double dating with Caitlyn Jenner.

2) Enjoying a root canal. Sans anesthesia.

3) Poking knitting needles into his nostrils.

4) Showering with a leopard.

5) Parading naked down 5th Avenue. On a snow day.

6) Apologizing. For anything.

7) Wearing nipple clamps attached to an electric generator.

8) Waltzing with Peyton Manning.

9) Having duct tape ripped off of his privates.

10) Eating raw monkey brains.

Thanks, Bill, for providing our evening’s entertainment.


I Am

Beautiful poem by John White.

DoubleU = W

I am a dying leaf

clinging to the mother tree

in a high autumn wind

I am unique crystal

frozen in the heavens

wafting into the drift

I am the grass blade

attempting to reach above

all others to see beyond

I am the passing cloud

shape-shifting by moment

desiring to be seen

I am the mountain

the rising peak watching

over surrounding landscape

I am the wofting breeze

caressing all about me

to bring peace and comfort


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in the soul of man
there exists a chasm
deeper than it is wide,
and it is very wide indeed
from one’s lofty northern perch
the southern side cannot be viewed

stones cast in vertically disappear,
become ghosts of old yearnings
intense feelings grown cold
free falling for eternity
to fathomless depths
in the soul of man

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