"I am 72 years old. I have a Ph.D. in clinical psychology and was a practicing psychotherapist for 30 years. I am now fully retired. I have authored two books of short stories. I have published in numerous professional journals. I have freelanced for more than 20 years. My humor pieces Clyde and Goliath, Good Grief Columbus, and If Noah Built the Ark Today have won awards. I am now writing poetry full-time. I have many pursuits which include sculpting, painting, gardening and baking bread. My forcaccia is to die for."
I wondered whether it was like
to take a bubble bath. Born in
the depression, we were too poor
for such frivolous things.
I was too macho for such wussy
things when I was in my teens.
I wouldn't get caught dead in the bath
with 1 million bubbles while I was going
I didn't have time after I graduated
to indulge in such a frivolity. It was
a quick shower and off to the grind.
Now I'm retired and my wife works.
At last I have my chance. I started
the water and poured in a bottle
of a bubble bath.
Bubbles fill the tub and overflowed
obscuring the bathroom floor. Soon
the stuff was up to my knees. I
struggled to find the tap to turn the
As I stand here looking at the mass;
I ask what do you do with 1 million bubbles?
I'm thinking I should have waited a little longer
and taking them back after I was dead.
The neighbors yard was a menace.
He never cut the grass. The rosebushes
had died from lack of care and the ivy
on this side of the house were now
I never saw him go to work. I wondered
what he did. His friends would come at
all hours and played rancorous music
just above a threshold of pain.
They were all rough looking with long hair
and a variety of beards. The women who
must have been easy they had mattresses
strapped to their backs.
In the middle of the night I was awakened
by a thunderous crash. The street outside
what is lined with cars and two police
I understand my neighbor has a green
some. The cops haul them all away
along with forty weed plants.
Twisting Baroque art
etched into vermillion
cliffs It sings a Bach melody.
A dark blue river
provides a foil, highlighting
the mazes of scars
carved deep into
Brilliant red strata
A dizzy labyrinth
Touches streaked red sky.
Sunrays painting specters on
canyon walls as
they chase fickle shadows.
Lonely sagebrush clings.
Deep shadows reignswhere sun light hides.