Unfortunately, at this point in my life I think home pages are fairly vain and don't care to spend hours of time trying to impress random people surfing the Internet. It's been my experience that if you don't know me, looking at my homepage isn't going to help that very much.

Homer and I are presently getting our shit together. When we do, there might be some more stuff here.

My first since the divorce

My right ring finger looks funny.

At thirty five I dove for a frisbee
and bent it like a promise.
A year and two doctors later
one knuckle continues to remind me 
of my slip.

It’s not alone, I’m afraid.
All manner of insults my body once forgave
now form grudges, fashion revenge,
resurface at the worst moments 
like the end of a well-digging
argument with my mother.

And Kristin - two years after,
we spent a weekend together.
I lay with her chastely through an odd hour,
made a show of pardoning her 
for a thousand injuries.

But like my body
I failed to forgive all insults.
I wanted to recapture them,
burrow back to a warmth
just outside my skin, just beneath hers,
and cling to it like a baby on a thumb.
The next day

we climbed a small mountain with her new dog,
sat on top while the sun crucified 
my forehead and my bald spot.
I was ashamed for seeking that heat.

Only now, when she is again a trick finger,
do I recognize we are made
to continue diving –

despite the hardening ground
and the growing irrevocability of our missteps.

A really nice picture of a tractor.

Maintained by Rick Wyatt (rick@rickwyatt.com)