Spin On

there would be day and there would be night on the first day

water will not spill over the edge of this rough existence but tides will be sometimes high and sometimes low

(compressed over time

into a spiritual shape

of shadows)

spin factor that keeps balance and movement in the right direction

perfect union with the creator


NaPoWriMo Day 18 five answers to an unstated question

Spin On

Ode to Mismatched Socks

All mismatched socks go in a bag

(evidence that I have given up the task)

I wear the individuals until there are holes

then throw them away


buried in the bag

is a pair

long departed from each other

and I rejoice

they are together again


dVerse prompt on laundry. Here’s to the missing socks that went down the drain and didn’t get in this poem.

Ode to Mismatched Socks

Memorial Day Weekend

My sister called saying Dad is in the hospital and probably not going to make it. I fly home the next day, well not really home, but back to Iowa, flying into Waterloo airport on a prop plane and feeling nausea. My sister meets me and we go straight to the hospital. It is late at night and quiet, only the beep beep beep of monitors, smell of tubes and clean linens, Dad on his back and breathing. I take his hand or does he take mine, either way, he has my hand and holds it up and far away from himself just like he did in life. I was never good at making small talk whether people were alive or dying and now is no different.

Years before when Mother called me from the heart patient ward of the hospital, probably the same one Dad was in, she wanted to talk about dying, how people around her would die in the night, and she was losing her faith and I couldn’t help her with what little faith I had. I only could listen to her voice as it fell further and further from the hope she had always carried with her. I often regret that I did not have the Word to give her strength, that I did not know God to help her be strong in her faith. Now Dad was dying, Dad who never wanted God. Dad, who said, “When you’re dead, you’re dead.” Dad who never talked about Jesus or told Bible stories like his mother did. Who went to church twice that I know of, once when I was baptized and when mom died. Now he was dying, and no one really had anything to say.

My sister and I left the hospital and slept at her place. Dad died on Memorial Day. I regret I didn’t have more to say.

Memorial Day Weekend

Dante’s Erasure

Original Dante

“THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:

Through me you pass into eternal pain:

Through me among the people lost for aye.

Justice the founder of my fabric moved:

To rear me was the task of Power divine,

Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love.

Before me things create were none, save things

Eternal, and eternal I endure.

All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”

Such characters, in color dim, I mark’d

Over a portal’s lofty arch inscribed.

Dante’s Erasure



Through me




Before me


All hope


Dante’s Erasure