Apples & Crows was published in Spring of 2023. The publisher, Kelsay Books in Utah, did a great job creating a book that is both beautiful and fun to read. The poems in this collection were created over a period of roughly eight to ten years. The book is divided into three sections: love poems from; Chasing an Essence; and Compass without a Rose. Most of these poems are lyrical, painting and telling their stories through a series of images that challenge the reader to "see" what is going on in the poems like tiny movies or vignettes. The selections below are plucked from each of the sections of the book. Apples & Crows is available from or from Amazon under my author name. 


In the guise of oxen

Enter the village with humility,
Heads down, sweaty

From chugging up the street,
Hauling the resurrection

Bells to the chapel.
Lowing, gospel sounds

Drift like incense
Among the faithful

In frost-crusted robes.


Mistaking song
For sorrow and longing

For notes of spring,
Your dearest secret

Calls out to me
Over snow-laden

Hills at sunset,
Reveals its pining

Not a map, but a flame.


Practicing caress, reaching
Tiny hands to fence rails,

Windowsills and fingers
Of the spruce, falling snow

Attains love's earthly shape
Through touch, consecration, embrace.

(published first in Painted Bride Quarterly, Winter, 2022)


I am tired of being a roach of a man
Left in the dust of love,

Under the thumb of
Guilt and co-dependence,

Crawling these empy rooms
Draped with shadows and breathing

Cupped in the hollows of my ear.
I am tired of my ears, the sound of dreams,

Wires struck with stones,
My tinnitus, a nubile violinist

Strolling canals beneath my brain.
How delicious it would be

To stop the ringing
With meat.


Without reason the daylight rests
Its engine under the idle sun

And warmth of the road home.
Breezes brush the wheat in waves

And dance over one hundred acres.
They nudge me along

To the shade beneath a tree
Where love's a blessing to the mind

Overheated with crows
And terrorists.


I don't want to go on as Stick Man
With a job and lots of money,

Worthless in the sight of love,
Which would have me

Stroll among panthers in this town

With the shining eyes
Of Superman,

My hair on fire,
Spears of grass flying up

From canyons
Between my toes.


Why be an inheritor of anything,
Love, except your volcano

And its eruptions,
Lips overflowing.

I raise my chorus of thoughts
In praise, my face an open mouth.
I heft Love's bass drum to my chest
And begin marching.

(published first in Red Savina Review, Fall, 2016)

Paste the following link in your browser for a reading of this poem, and an opportunity to purchase the book from Kelsay Press.


Cool as Lucinda
And her cousin

Bill, roaming the hallways

Killing spiders
Iris, the heroine

Opened her purple eyes:
I've got the world

By the armpits
She murmured...

And I want to dance.
Light the orchards

With blossoms
And hearts of cardinals.

Bring that Lazarus boy
To me. I have

Some questions
And a jar of my finest

Spring wine. I can't wait
To hear his story.

(published first in Soundings East, V.40, 2018)


From the stillness of his heart
He snags the hot ones blasted

Up the middle. Aligned with bags
And stars, his bliss in backhand stabs

And mid-air twists to throw
Are framed as fundamentals.

Following the hitter's eyes
He matches strides to swings

Knowing the orb's path
Before it launches.

He thrives on gaming,
Mind prayerful

And light as snow. Skilled
In the language of leather

He translates objects and rules
Into movements, executions

Swift and sudden. From the shade
Beneath his ball cap, his eyes

Vibrate and shine. His souls
Whisper "Believe,"

When his mitt fist swipes
The tag across my jaw.

(published first in Baseball Bard,, 2016)


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