Meijer After Dark

This is one of my rare free-form poems, and is 100% autobiographical. Meijer (pronounced My-er) is our local one-stop shop for groceries, back to school supplies, clothes, whatever. Think Wal-Mart, only nicer… but it does give off a slight vibe of

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The Miners

Happy Labor Day! The Miners Originally written November 2018. #115. “Just give me my fair due. That’s all I want.” The striking worker waves his handmade sign. He and his striking brothers form a line In front of the head

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The Rough Road

I don’t remember the context of this. It was second-semester-of-grad-school stress for sure, and probably prompted by a brief stretch of doing a poem a day. Regardless of the original situation, it’s still true. I may not be led into

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The Extrovert

For about seven months last year, I had a single mom and her young daughter living with me. The daughter was very cute when she wanted to be, but she also had some very rough days. This poem stems from

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Senioritis

Today’s sonnet is in honor of all of the students who are already going back to school for some reason, even though the beginning of August is absurdly early for it. I don’t remember when I wrote this one, but

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At the Basilica in St. Augustine, Florida

I disagree with significant portions of Catholic theology, but I love their architecture and how it often points to the acts that God has performed through His people. About two months ago, I found myself wandering through the Basilica in

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Thanatos

I don’t remember what mass shooting or other catastrophe prompted this poem. There are plenty, even prior to 2007 to choose from. I chose not to modify this poem at all, including updating it with more recent stats (with the

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Death’s Walk

A few years ago I went through a “season” of death. A surprising number of people within a degree or two of separation from me passed away, mostly unexpectedly. I wrote today’s sonnet at the end or shortly after that

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Manna

Originally written May 12, 2019. #108. The ducks that nest and swim upon the pond Don’t think about the source of daily bread. They hunt and peck and search the ground instead. They do not think of what goes on

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Produce Aisle

Today’s poem is ancient—by which I mean, I wrote it around 2002 or 2003—but I still have a certain fondness for it. The thing about grocery stores is that sometimes you can wind up inadvertently following someone around the store

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