Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree


There is no calm before the storm.

This tempest is neverending. These brief moments of peace are only that.

I am the pupil, swollen by too much light, staring up into the fickle sun.

I still reside within the storm. On the horizon, I see the dark spinning clouds as they draw near to envelop me again.

I have been a sower of the wind.

I have cast my dreams like seeds into the blistering sky.

Now I must succumb to what I have become.

I am the whirlwind reaper.

Posted in Musings

Stop Blaming Facebook for Your Stupidity

Maybe it’s because we don’t have to put “www” in front of urls anymore, but there seems to be a collective amnesia as to exactly what the internet is.

AKA, the World Wide Web.

As in the most. public. place. ever.

As in anything you post on the internet can be seen by anyone.

So show some discretion, people!

Vet the links you share before you share. Make sure you’re not a mouth piece for some entity masquerading as something completely different.

Heck, vet your rants and opinions before you post them. Ever looked back on something you wrote years ago and been embarrassed? Yeah, well the journal entries are a little more public now, aren’t they?

Think! Reflect! Then respond.

Stop reacting to the latest . . . well . . . whatever!

Stop being a slave to the 24/7 news cycle. No news is good news, right?

And above all, stop leaving the responsibility of protecting your privacy with Facebook, Google or any of the host of, well, other web hosts.

If you don’t want the world to know where you live, what your kids, your body, or your dirty laundry look like, then quite simply don’t click upload.

Sure, Facebook needs to be held accountable for Russian trolls, fake ads, Cambridge Analytics, and such. There is much they can do to clean things up.

But really? Really?!

“C’mon, man!”

It’s the World Wide Web, for Chris Christie’s sake.

Fix Facebook?

Sure, but you might want to try some of them same tools on yourself.

Editor’s note: Midweek Essays are posted every Wednesday. See the publication schedule for details.

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Dealing With My Excrement

Perhaps it is my contemplative nature, but as I was outside in the backyard this morning picking up our dogs’ excrement with a shovel, my mind moved down other stinky and not so pleasant paths related to my stuff. In particular an incident from the past that left me and the other both not smelling so good where the faint aroma still hangs in the air when we are around each other.

I pick up a few turds and admit my fault to the universe. In the end that is all I can do. I don’t have enough lifetimes to deal with other people’s stuff. The mosquitoes of guilt and shame are tearing me up and I have a whole backyard of my own to take care of.

So, one by one, bit by bit, I am present to each mess. I put it in the bucket and move on to the next pile.

Originally posted July 1, 2011

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Pressing Pause


frustration finds me
though i attempt to
hide behind the speed
of breakneck activity

doing lacks satisfaction
and gloats in sneering glee
as my being is left in the
choking dust of the busy

a soul consumed by the
cares of the everyday without a chance to press pause
is quickly cast into the sea

it is so hard to simply stop
and find the nearest seat
before i tumble to that inevitable rip – death by responsibility


Atlas is Dead


My shoulders ache.
I have been carrying
the world on my
back for years.

At least I have
been trying too.

There is nothing wrong
with feeling a sense
of responsibility
for the world
but no one
including me
is strong enough
to bear
the burden


Cruel #Creation. Cruel Creator too?


Cruel Creation.
Cruel Creator too?
It would seem the inference is true.

But God is good
and Creation was pronounced
good too.
It is so hard to see the torture we
put each other through.

Blame God
but I think we both know what is true.

The responsibility for the state of Creation lies somewhere
between me and you.