Every new day

Every new day




Just inside of sleep


Just inside of sleep

still conscious of the sheets, snow

falling and moonlight.


A stranger crosses

my grandmother’s shaded lawn

fifty years ago.


This is the alchemy.

Reincarnation and

revelation.  Eyes open


in the dark. My love

breathing beside me. Chill breeze

from the cracked open window.



It was just my imagination

Sometimes sitting still, disappearing, I recall the experience of Time as a child.

In  the quiet living room drinking a cup of coffee before the start of a busy day I remember; I wanted to be liked, win the race, be a superhero and Lipton soup salesman like my dad. Nothing was crucial. But I could drown in the shower or die in the dark. Something was always under the bed. I believed in God and my parents and that everything would be alright. It was just my imagination.

And I was not responsible.