Joy, like the polka-dots splashing in the parking lot with the crepe-myrtle blossoms floating on the rain drenches me warm to the bone ...

The Spring 2014 issue of Californios features some of my work, including the one poem that is probably closer to my heart than any other. W...

Knowledge passes in and out of dreams, a mirror dim, and frequently inverted. Its objects are usually closer than they appear. Love is th...

"Let us go then, you and I..." --T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock The patient and ethereal evening spreads itse...

Dusk comes when dust encrusted light descends, and bends the clouds in loud fantastic hues, cues for this proud day to end, j...

Be hold the eye of beauty, drawing the spirit in elegant lines sweeping out continuously through the flesh, and so be h...

Love's way always is the right way, but love doesn't demand it. Love is recklessly wronged, but still remains, miracl...