*Spell Book*

Crescendo...  Rains fall like Niagara in the soaked and shivering East, Snow builds mountains in the Rockies and Northern Plains, D...

Flying Home...  Cool grey skies overcast blanket, Corn-stubble muted tawny gold, Canada geese blend into either, As the grasses join in to w...

The Old  Stories...  i cant tell now if the old stories were wilder, Less inhibited, More macabre, Or just less tainted by ...

The Grand Opening...  At this time, On this night, Through the thinnest of veils, Spirits may rise and shine, As we all turn to the inside, ...

The Originals...  The people you grew up with, Scattered like Autumn leaves from the same tree, Some from the very same branch, Other from a...

The Ghost Of A House...  Autumn leaves dance on old branches, Large and stout arms to hold the falling rain of color, A luxurious russet bla...

They Call Him Vampire...  Like many things that move through the night, The tales are taller than long shadows, The truth is the iceberg bel...

The Shallow Pumpkin...  The shallow pumpkin has shallow roots, An empty gourd of poor seed, Thin of skin and rotting from the inside out. It...

I'm A Dreamer...  ...And I'm not the only one. That line was so good it deserved a welcome reprise, Thank you John in the sky. In th...

Mental Twinkies For Nerds...  Magazines on glorious glossiuss paper, In hand at a bookstore coffee shop, Triple-shot latte and oatmeal-raisi...

The Poets' Ache Redux...   Of what use is poetry? Where does this drive to record the stream of words from the subconscious come from? I...

No Spectators In The Pumpkin Wars...  I tend to fall...well, Autumn, In with the traditionalists, Tories of pumpkin as it were. Pumpkin pie ...

A Leaf Dancing In Dreamland...  Blowing down the street in the heart of the night, I whirl in the air and skitter over pavement, Tickling ob...

Midnight Oil...  ...Or maybe a candle, Well, Ok, A lamp, After all, We are in a post-Edison-and-Tesla era. And yet, The lights are soft, My ...

The Sunday Paper...  We were watching the Sunday Morning show on CBS, A Sunday tradition of ours, Her passing comment took me back decades; ...

The Pits...  As my Mother used to say, "Sometimes in life you get cherries, Other times it's just the pits." What was never me...

The Scent Of The Grind...  The beans spill into the hopper, As I spin the handle in and antique tradition, The scent washes over me, Serenit...

Tarash Sparau... There is an ancient name, They say it was sung by the last summer winds, In chorus with the stormy gales of autumn, Ta...

American Corn... Cheesey, Embellished, Kitschy, Ticky-tacky knic-knac, I love all these roadsides, Waving brash history's hat, It's ...