Friday, December 3, 2021

                                                               FAMILY TRIPS   


Summer vacation, as a young child in New Haven, means days spent on the schoolyard, a local playground or on neighborhood streets.  When my father isn’t too tired, outings by trolley to the beach on Sunday or to the amusement park at Savin Rock in West Haven.  A supper of fried clams, soft shell crab or pizza ends the day.


Overnight trips away from New Haven are rare and short.  The occasional one night stay-over in New York City to see the Rockets at Radio City Music Hall or a relative’s wedding in the Bronx.


The longest trip we take is a week-long vacation with my mother’s older sister and her husband.  My uncle drives the six of us to the Desert of Maine.  We share a two room cabin, my parents, my sister and I in one room, my aunt and uncle in another. 


I am seven and my sister nine, and neither of us is diplomatic regarding the arrangements made by my aunt and uncle. The cabin is too small.  Why is there a sink in one bedroom, a cooking stove and ice-box in the other? Why are the toilet and shower outside? The sand is too hot.  I want to go home.


We whine and my aunt nags.  She nags her husband, my mother, my sister and me.  For some reason she leaves my father alone.


shifting dunes

the lone man takes

a new direction



Presence, Winter 2011

Friday, November 19, 2021


 Black & White Haiga

Wednesday, November 10, 2021


fading autumn
a dullness in the downed leaves
in these rain filled days
deprived of sunrise, sunset
I paint with only red
Red Lights

Monday, November 1, 2021


Daily Haiga 

Thursday, October 28, 2021

Haiku for Halloween

 voices in the night
forgotten stories
forgotten lives

Friday, October 22, 2021

Haiku Sequence



                                                            trade winds

                                                            through the local bazaar

                                                            looking for a fan


                                                            an egret bobs

                                                            across the open lounge

                                                            rustling palm fronds


                                                            power outage

                                                            stilling our chatter

                                                            the luminous reef


                                                            clear blue water—

                                                            refracted sunlight scatters           

                                                            with each step

Stylus Poetry Journal

Saturday, October 16, 2021