Weird and awkward, odd and strange;

a set of quirks as broad as a mountain range.

Never really fit in but can’t seem to fit out –

what, really, is fitting all about?

If I can’t fit here, there, now or then,

will I fit somewhere – and if so, when?

Yes, yes you will – the “when”, I can’t say,

but when you fit with yourself,

you’ll be well on your way.

Resting Place

I came upon a resting place;

a reading place, a writing place,

a summer’s breeze in the evening place,

but there I could not stay.

So I came upon the place again –

a breathing place, a healing place.

I came upon the place again

on a very different day,

so when I

came upon the resting place,

the reading place, the writing place,

the summer’s breeze in the evening place

the breathing place, the healing place –

when I came across that place again

I knew that I could stay.


Whenever I see a full moon

it seems likely to me

that the universe has written

a message to us

in letters formed by constellations

splashed across the sky

concluded with a period

created by a drop of planetary paint.

We can’t help looking up

hoping to learn what it means –

trying to understand

though it’s written in a language

none of us are fluent in.

I’m not sure I’d want to be.


In the morning

when your thoughts seem guided

by some frenzied Army general

bashing on a typewriter,

every letter dropping

another grenade

into the war zone,

your rationality weaving

through the steel raindrops

of every vowel and consonant

that makes up your fear

until finally

the general takes a moment,


to let his fingers rest

so yours can take over

with a gentle “tap, tap, tap”

sending snowflakes down

to settle over the scars

left by the explosions.

Hand print

You stood at the window so often.

One hand pressed against the glass,

the creases of your fingers

imprinting themselves

upon the layers of dust

that made it so hard for you

to keep watch for the one

who would never come –

who loved you most –

who you did not know

would never come

until the dust on the glass

grew so thick

you couldn’t see at all –

on that day

you pulled yourself back

leaving all your hope

in a hand print.