They bend to the grass In the breezes that pass On this island they seem to possess Across Cumberland Sound Where its ruins are found Stand the horses of Dungeness In their hooves are no nails And they travel their trails With no bridles imposed on their brows And no saddles or packs Ever burden… Continue reading The Horses of Dungeness

Miss Patsy’s Playhouse and Rozell Sportsman’s Lodge with Ridley Bell Sunset poems, famous quote “Fish are jumpin’ in the boat!” Spano’s treasure chest and clown Goat man on the edge of town Kirven’s windows, Santa’s lap Colonel Chick and Cap O’Hap Golden egg, Poll Parrot shoes Those Columbus Stockade Blues “Colonial is Good Bread” door… Continue reading River Town

The voice on the radio found those words to explain the change since Parkland and I imagined torrents raining down and swollen rivers and flooded streets and dams overcome But the blood of Columbine should have brought the torrents and Aurora and Newtown should have made the rivers swell and Chattanooga and San Bernardino and… Continue reading An Accumulation of Sorrow

There once was a person named Bryan Who wasn’t enthused about dyin’ “If I fail,” he once said “At not ending up dead Well, you can’t say I didn’t die tryin’”

We really can’t stay I might get a cough outside We’ve got to go away Too cold to play golf outside Impeachment is bound to take you down Has anybody seen my crown? Ivanka’s getting tired of DC She needs to be a lot less PC And Jared’s gotten grilled on the Hill I told… Continue reading Melania, It’s Cold Outside

How many bone splintering, gut ripping wake up calls? How many worshippers cut down in prayer? How many dancers broken on the floor? How many children not coming home? How many fingers pointing away? How many lawmakers owned by the gun? How many angry men firing blind? How many more?

I hear there’s snow on Brasstown Bald I hear the wind begin to blow It’s late October, only fall And spring was not so long ago We stood one morning on a rise And looked across green fields of time And under pale and golden skies We counted mountains we would climb And now the… Continue reading Brasstown Bald