Monthly Archives: September 2012

The Drama of the Oxford Comma

The Drama of the Oxford Comma

That uptight chap with shirt tucked in,

whiskers shaved,

and trousers creased,


using formal speech,

perfect diction,

and impeccable etiquette,


responsible beyond belief,

organizing every last detail,

and maintaining order in his world,


that steadfast bloke has worried himself silly,

chewed his manicured nails to nubs,

and nearly pulled out all his hair


as his utility is questioned,

his existence proposed obsolete,

and his presence only desired


by stodgy traditionalists,

rigid editors,

and English professors.


After being snubbed by companions,

excluded from clubs,

and ignored by neighbors,


abandoned by hope,


and humor,


he broods alone in his room,

looks around,

and finally settles his gaze


on a revolver,

a rope

and some pills.

Driving across Wyoming

Driving across Wyoming

These empty roads

wind through what seems

like barrenness but is really

possibility, and I speed,

faster, farther, alone for miles.

Thoughts I usually censor,

dreams I rarely allow,

echo across red canyons,

swirl around sagebrush,

waiting to be acknowledged.


The mountains, stacked

and layered, silhouetted

against acres of sky,

loom like my future,

anchor like my past,

pointing to all I will

and will not become,

shadows of all I have

and have not been.

Accelerating, I drive farther,

faster into this sparse,

wild state, aching

for the clarity found only

on long, lonely highways.

Grieving: Seven Haiku

Grieving: Seven Haiku

If I swim far enough

through this darkness

there has to be light somewhere


The ashes do not convey

the essence of you,

not even close


At the river today

even the ducks

looked for you


Your collar with your smell,

your familiar jingle,

empty of you


This house, so hollow,

so quiet, while we wait

for healing


Your hair still appears

in the dustpan,

whispers of comfort


Fourteen days and still

I crumple

at the smallest things