The Drowned Valley
A Poetic Meditation on the Old Stone Church , West Boylston , Massachusetts The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn. - Ralph Waldo Emerson , Essays: Nature There are places the world forgets, and others it keeps remembering for us. The Old Stone Church in West Boylston is one of the latter.
The Boys of Lincoln Street
Five Small Legends from a Long Summer Preface Lincoln Street was the whole world once - cracked asphalt for outfields, maples for scoreboards, and porch fans humming like crowds in the stands. We were kings with gloves for crowns and pockets full of gum and luck. Every bruise was a medal, every laugh a victory parade. These poems remember that world - not just the games, but the friendship stitched between them. The way we faced down winters with courage, and each other with grins. The way one missed catch could become a myth. The way a single…
The French Café
a polyptych of what may have happened after the Martini in Nancy Wilson's Guess Who I Saw Today Prologue: On Reflection Some stories never end - they fade, spoken softly under lamplight, where truth enters quietly, like a draft beneath the door. This one follows three people bound by a single evening: a husband, his wife, and the woman who loved him elsewhere. Their lives unfold not in argument, but in echo - through glass, through memory, through the long light of forgiveness. Each voice stands alone, yet their silences overlap. Like ligh…
After the Angels Folded Their Wings
Prologue: Clarence’s Watch Heaven is quieter than you’d think. Wings don’t rustle ... they remember. Tonight, I look down at a house where hearts are trying to mend by morning’s slow mercy.
The Other Side of the Door - 1984
A Two-Piece Manuscript: The Door & the Silence Some doors remain closed until your faith knocks hard enough to hear your own heart . - Oliver B. Greene I. The Door That Kept Me Going I was twenty-one. Broke. Wearing yesterday’s uniform and tomorrow’s fear. College slipped away. My son didn’t. He needed me - so I drove. Thin mornings, Richmond-bound, Chamberlain to the old highway, the Ambassador breathing smoke, gauge flirting with E like it wanted to leave me behind. Sometimes I asked out loud if God even rode with me - if anyone did. The…
