Poetry

The Pontiff passed to the other side. I saw him in the Vatican and smiled, Grace and power of the Word flowing, Energizing all of us in an audience. The Vicar of Christ, they proclaimed! Such a thought to modern man In a world of skepticism and doubt, The Vicar of Christ! Today begins the… Read more

I walk with confidence. Hand outstretched, I greet you. Let us shake hands And speak, For who knows Where today’s road might take us? I came with purpose. Mind intent, I know why I came. Let us bargain And deal, For who knows Where today’s road might take us? ~ Mainz, Germany, March 18, 1979 Read more

Jazz flows across the Mississippi. A polite and encouraging announcer presents: a businessman from Davenport, a chiropractor with his brother from Sacramento, a lawyer from Moline, a Catholic priest from Argentina, and a band leader from Orlando. They will play jazz. “The way it is supposed to be played,” he said. “The way Bix would… Read more

Red Sky at Dusk A redness fills the room where I spent hours practicing guitar. It is the setting sun refracting its rays. Securing my thermal blanket, I rest in bed. With or without a red presence, I’ll close my eyes and ears, leaving me with memories… To dream… of musical notes infused with red… Read more

This morning you bumped your own dresser. Knocking a pack of Certs, wintergreen flavor, onto the floor. One cert flew loose and landed in your mouth. Then you awoke and I had a fresh mint taste in my mouth. I had another. ~ Iowa City, 1973-1974. Read more

I don’t want that old thing that you had before. I just want to tell you one thing: I want to play baseball now at the park because there’s no baseball space here. No baseball space at all. ~ Spring/Summer 1989 Read more

Summer came today Cool, windy, clear. On the weathered picnic bench I sawed limbs, fallen during the storm, into firewood. She stacked the logs on the deck near the gate leading to the driveway. ~From my Indiana Journal circa 1988 Read more

~ July 3, 1976, Davenport, Iowa. ~ July 8, 1976, Fort Benning, Georgia. Read more

I’m still here listening to the rain falling outside my window. I’m still here. ~Aug. 18, 1975 Read more

Editor’s Note: I flew from Amsterdam to Montreal in late October 1974. I took a bus from there to Davenport, Iowa. There was not a lot to do on the 24-hour bus trip so I wrote this poem/song. I never finished it. It’s a slice of that life. Chicago Blues Poem (I’m going to Chicago)I’m… Read more