“Yikes!” Yup, that’s the appropriate response. — Some months before my dad’s passing, I described a childhood story to a friend of a nude beach encounter. The friend was surprised as the experience was facilitated by my dad — when I was age 11, just barely in middle school. I lived in Michigan and was visiting him…

Bambini — everyone is doing it — I am relatively new to Medium authoring, especially poetry. But, I have long been enamored by the written word. There’s joy in this new endeavor. I’ve tapped into something previously unknown — or maybe it’s tapped into me. Maybe that’s how things work. Everything is interconnected, more deeply than we…

It’s exactly — and nothing — as you imagine — Yes, I pushed her and shouldn’t have. That was wrong. But I’ve never done it before with her or any other person. She just knows how to push my buttons. She’s not the loving, fun woman I married. She’s serious all the time, and mean sometimes. She talks down to…

A confused, confusable, and confusing dad, husband, and son. A good professional, a better amateur. Writing weird fiction, poems, observations, and reflections. Born an only child; raised with my imaginary siblings by a single, caring, and spoiling mother; supported by odd but loving grandparents; complicatedly loved and abandoned by my…

Poetry — We scamper from house to building, squatting Akin to an aging MLB catcher Becoming slower and less adept as time passes As our garb and protective equipment fades and frays Chronic fear and complex trauma, our constant companions Bathing us As ocean waves Rhythmically crash the shores and rocks and cliffs at Torre…

Next to me, in my darkest hours — Surrounding death and isolative distress My darkest hours A deep, inescapable and cavernous despondency Occurring incrementally As if an unbeknownst gravitational pull toward a blackhole Devouring the flesh Before the mind’s awareness And then I saw shadows Restless and irritable and listless Sleep — disturbing and interrupted Distracted and dismantled perceptions Like walking…

Those little moments of ours. — If only I could travel time and redo those little moments of ours, with the me of today. The me of today wholeheartedly — wholeheartedly — expresses deep love for you. That younger me tried but did not and could not. He was emotionally feeble. If the me of today…

Cocooned, for all of winter Protected from the elements Yet unable to bloom and stretch and breathe The weather breaks If only for a moment Accepted invitation from sun and warmth Sitting, eyes closed — As our star’s brightness bathes and heals Invigorates and inspires Energetic calmness surrounds Serotonergic contentment abounds Spring’s…

War is crime. Putin is crime. Ukraine is antithesis. — This is mid-evil, a Batman’s insane Bane. These war crimes in Ukraine. War is crime, irreversibly damaging buildings, body, and mind. Putin is crime, indiscriminately and meaninglessly Snuffing existence whilst piercing, like a butcher’s knife, Trauma into hearts and minds and bodies. Trauma in this generation, yes, but also the next…