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In past posts, I’ve alluded to life-long issues with self esteem and lack of self confidence. So, it took me years to get up the guts to share a link on Facebook to one of the silly little poems I post on this blog. I did so early last month. It was a about getting a haircut at the same place I did when I was a child.

Facebook almost immediately flagged it as spam and yanked it. When I told them it was not spam, they sent me the reply you see above. The red letters are my emphasis. And with the keys words, “We’ll try” and “if,” I doubt they’ll be putting it back anytime soon.

In the meantime, I continue to work on a story with an old friend. We have a first draft completed. We’re currently crafting more backstory, so that we can attack the second draft with greater insight to the characters and their motivations. This is taking most of my creative energies these days, thus this blog is a bit neglected as of late.

I have an idea for a future post concerning a backstory/background-writing technique I’ve been using that might be worth sharing. Stay tuned.



I’m getting my hair cut in the same

place I did when I was growing up


As I wait my turn, sitting on one of the

scuffed-up wooden chairs, I look around


and see the place intermittently with the

eyes of a sixty-year old and a six-year old


I wade through a chaotic surf of thoughts

both nostalgic and Twilight Zonian


The men around me seem the same

though they wear different faces


To my bemusement, I come

to an annoying realization


I’ve become one of the old farts I used to

see in the barbershop when I was a kid


Men talking too loudly mostly due to

all involved having crappy hearing


Laughing at jokes that either aren’t that

funny or rely on cultural references


that belong on a dusty shelf some-

where in the Smithsonian Institute


I’m finally called up to take my turn

sitting in the classic-style barber chair


The barber and I immediately engage

in the time-honored tradition of small talk


This is fitting because small talk was

invented in a barber shop in 1814


I’ll have to check on that though

I could be wrong

A Moment’s Pondering

I saw a Druid strolling

through the ruins

of a Roman bath

Surely a dream image

yet as real as the pain

from my blistered feet

For a moment

I could imagine

being unfettered

and unabused by

the icy-hearted

bitch we call time

Free to wander

the back roads and

hinterlands of the past

Ultimately ”unplugged“

Most definitely ”off the grid“

Beyond the notice of Google

But then the moment is gone

and I’m pinned once again

to the firmament of reality


ancient stone legos

no instruction manual

answerless riddle


Went to Stonehenge the other day. (There’s a sentence I don’t get to write often.)

Compared to the distance they keep the public from the main structure, I’m always surprised by how close they let us get to the Heel Stone.

This time, when I saw it (the Heel Stone), I saw a face.

I had to draw it.

As Mr. Serling would have said, “submitted for your approval…”





(Found poetry)


Please mind the steps.

Dimly lit and

uneven surfaces.

Cemetery Bench

Cemetery bench

A long way past usefulness

Time rests on it now