Saturday, January 21, 2017


When straying from writing about my wife or kids
I’m instantly cognizant of something.
These are my muses I’m leaving 
for a second, of course,
but for territory off the beaten path.

is no stranger for sure, fundamentally my brother
Yet he doesn’t inhabit my space these days
my routine day to day.

We meet at Ghost River
and my bubble trails off
the routine of clocking in and out
washing my children while singing Baby Beluga
pouring the wine and sitting down
with Friday Night Lights

and I think “Oh yea. You!”
I don’t even have to remember you
for best friends are like family.
By default, their name comes to mind
every time you think over your story.

And just like Sammy
my childhood dog for twelve years
whose scent is practically engrained in my nostrils,
the warmth of your presence
rushes back

the memories of your apartment porch
catty corner Firedog
the Corner Market on 13th
intoxicate my spirit.

Thursday, January 19, 2017


Knox is slow with how he enters the room, almost tripping over the bottle
that rests along the bottom of the wall, some chocolate milk still left.
Darcy slung it off the couch this morning, wanting her sleep sack off.
I hope Darcy didn't wake him.

He walks to her, “Hey Dorcy” 
looks to me and grins, says “Dorcy” again.
I smirk at him, “Dorcy?”
Knox loses it
takes a full minute to stop laughing.

you’ve become so whimsical.
I’ve enjoyed seeing you come into your own individual self 
that only Knox Rucker can inhabit.

Yesterday, we were up there on the barstools
you were drinking some of my “fizzy drink”
it popped on your tongue and you looked at me with a smile.
And I had this moment, one I’ve been experiencing a lot lately
I felt myself become you
almost like I felt your aura wrap around me
and teeter me into your world
with your free and mammoth imagination 
coating me.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

now just about gone

The harsh glossy white that painted our walls on Friday
is now just about gone.
Footlong patches of snow take up a meager percentage 
of each yard around us
and remind me I worked 
almost around the clock Friday and Saturday.

I missed out on seeing Knox and Darcy
playing with Micah and Jonathan from across the street.
The crunch crunch of them grazing down the sidewalk 
outside my window.
But I'm not sure I missed all that much. 
I heard Knox's crying afterwards, very shortly after, 
for his hands couldn't handle the cold. 

I would make a guess that by the time a father's oldest reaches age three
things begin to change like rapidfire 

starting with the plans inked all over the calendar on the wall.
We need to prioritize and lay out what can go and what to add

that this one thing is unimportant
and this other thing
well, quite simply just is.

And it becomes increasingly more and more aware to me
that time is a passing thing.
Time is now.
And now is important

for now is just about gone.