In Absentia

Quite a while back, on (what turned out to be) my last visit to Montgomery’s before things got ugly, I tried to imagine life without.


In Absentia

Because today he became technically old, and because His Beloved had enticed him to stay home and “celebrate” his birthday with only her, he poured a second leisurely cup of celebratory coffee, settled himself in at his keyboard, and tried his best to bear the change in plans.

He hoped his downtown cronies wouldn’t miss him too much.

At the café he had always frequented, the same small table by the window where he usually sat remained vacant. All the other regulars could only imagine him there among them, his journal open, its pages awaiting their capture.

all good things vanish
—even in the best of times—
winter settles in

dVerse ~ Poets Pub
Haibun Monday

Persistence Of Vision

Originally published (online) in August 2013 by The Rapid Eye (now defunct) and dusted off for this week’s Writers’ Pantry at Poets And Storytellers United.

The world’s a mess right now, and apparently it was equally messy back then, too.


Persistence Of Vision

She opens the fish,
finds her daughter’s fingers inside;
every fish the same explosion.

Poets And Storytellers United
Writers’ Pantry #31

Ron., Sentenced


My single-sentence poem, ‘Life — A Sentence’ is up today in the latest (outstanding!) edition of Months To Years, an excellent digital literary journal about living well while dying. Its purpose is to give voice to the wisdom, insight, and humor that often accompanies dying.

It’s not as bleak as it sounds. From the publication’s pages:
>> We seek compelling creative nonfiction (essays, memoir, etc.) and poetry that relate somehow to mortality, death, or dying. Writing doesn’t necessarily need to be a story of a death but rather any writing that explores our complex relationship with our mortality.

I’m grateful to Editor Renata Louwers for deeming my submission worthy of inclusion in this issue, making its return to publication after a brief (but too long) hiatus. Renata says that a print-on-demand version is forthcoming but, meanwhile…

You can link to an online (PDF) version here.

(Everything included is worth reading, but I’ll save you the hassle of scrolling along to p.57):

Read Life —A Sentence Here

(This is my 2nd appearance in Months To Years. My CNF story ‘Levels’ appeared in the Winter 2018 Issue)

• Read Levels Here


Chin up. Be the guy in the car, leaving his diagnosis-angst behind & driving away to his favorite coffee shop. Have a cup for me, okay?

With Or Without

Because Haiku and all things Haikai matter, Frank J. Tassone (Haijin extraordinaire) invites us to contribute to this week’s dVerse Poetry’s  Meet The Bar Challenge by creating a Haiku Sequence… either formal or less so. So:



is it August yet?

rain. sun. rain again.
all on the same afternoon.
more rain. dammit.

sun! sun! sun! sun! sun!
day after day after day.
no vacation plans.

harvest those haybales.
check out the weather reports.
sun. more sun. more. more.

dVerse Poets Pub
Meet The Bar
~ Haiku Sequence ~




Once again, The Drabble has seen fit to include my work (Leaving Eden, Unmasked) amid all of their other outstanding daily wordfeasts. I’m grateful for the acceptance / publication. This piece marks Acceptance #9 out of 13 pieces submitted over the past few years.

Leaving Eden, Unmasked is one of the few directly-related-to-Covid pieces I’ve submitted. It’s not too worrisome (I think) and – at exactly 100 words – it shouldn’t take too long to read & get it behind you if it’s not to your liking. But I DO hope you’ll enjoy it.

ReadLeaving Eden, Unmasked Here


I’m very Honored by this publication & hope to continue my positive relationship with The Drabble.




(It’s Poetics Tuesday at dVerse Poets & Laura Bloomsbury invites us to Flights Of Fancy. I suppose I’m a little off-target, but…)



Chicken Little was right. It’s Sunday
and the sky is falling. It’s Sunday night
and it’s almost midnight or it seems like
midnight without you here. It’s late and
it’s August or almost August and you’re
not here; you’re out there somewhere,
staring up at the same stars in another
kind of sky.
………………Come back to me soon. Come
home tonight to this house of straw, losing
its battle with the wind; come home again
from the sea and the salted air to the trees
on the hills alive with green and the stars
falling like wayward wishes.
……………………………….Come home, my love.
It’s almost August. The midnight sky is falling.

dVerse Poets Pub
~ Flights Of Fancy ~


Buckets, Unlisted, Realized

‘I ain’t no monkey but I know what I like…’


One thing I know for certain: it rained buckets at the On The Marsh Bistro in the lower village of Kennebunk, Maine two years ago today. It’s a beautiful spot, and it was filled with beautiful people, celebrating.

Rain, Schmain, I say.
If anything’s ironic, it is I, Ron. (Ick).
Still. I’m one happy man now & I’m counting on that to last.

Thank you, Sandra.


Something Or Other With Briars

Briars. Briars and briars and
nothing but more briars

and not a single, umm,
whatchamacallit in sight.

It pisses me off
when I can’t recall

exactly what the hell
the whatchamacallit’s called.

And this one should be easy:
Briars and ________.

I got nothin’

dVerse Poets Pub
Quadrille Monday #108
~ Among The Brambles ~