Oh Neighbor

Mid- summer Nights Melancholy by Michael Sowa
Mid- summer Nights Melancholy
by Michael Sowa

you think i don’t see you

– but i do

peering out your window

with that hangdog expression

expecting me to feel

sorry for you- to share everything

i have but you give nothing

in return – not contrite when my

bowl is found empty, a hint of

cat food on your breath

groveling for attention

tail wagging shamelessly

have you no pride, no dignity

oh canine, my neighbor,

my friend

Ending It

it seemed a good idea – put it in writing

and now the letter was held gingerly

in her quivering hands

sitting across from the mailbox

trying to imagine being elsewhere

in a tea shop or trying on shoes

she could get up, walk away

tuck the missive in an old book or

inside the jacket of a vinyl record album

she could run to the nearest trash

can and drop it there –

or she could open the

mail slot

and end the



(word list – idea, sitting, book, hands, letter, mailbox, shop, records, way, walk, run, elsewhere)


I took what she had to give –

this old mother covered with a

worn black shawl

The hand that held the

bottle was gnarled

like an ancient tree branch

– a simple potion of bark and ashes

She promised that one sip would

cause love to flow – passion to

burn like fire

I did not sip

I’ll leave future

to fate

Camp Girl

A summer night with stars

and fireflies trying to

outsparkle one another

I inhale deeply the

odor of burning logs and

sounds of singing around

the campfire transports me

to a different time when

a shy six year old spent

her first week at camp

Her mother packed matching

short sets and tennis shoes

The old brown suitcase held

everything on the ‘bring to camp’

list, towels, toothbrush, flaslight,

postcards to write home, stamps

During the days she laughed and swam,

played 4 square and sang Kumbaya

But at night when only the

crickets and owls were awake

she cried silent, homesick tears

I reach up and feel wet tracks

on my cheeks – crying for a little

girl gone away

Perchance to Write

The Poet's Sleep by Chang Houg Ahn
The Poet’s Sleep
by Chang Houg Ahn

The poet rested his head atop

the empty page surrounded

by shards of words

The petals of his mind

folded in sleep

Voices of long dead

muses whispered in his

unhearing ear

Morpheus and the Sandman

danced across the void

of his consciousness while

the music of sages played on

When the quietus of night

fell upon him he rose

up to find profound scribbles

had appeared where blankness

had prevailed

Whose words they were

he did not know