Book & Sample Poems
Book of Poems
Lending Color to the
85 pages | 19 paintings | 48 poems
Soft Cover | 8.5” x 8.5” | $19.50
NOW ONLY $15.00
This project is partially supported by an Individual Artists Program Grant from the City of Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs & Special Events and the Illinois Arts Council, a state agency through federal funds provided by the National Endowment for the Arts.
It doesn’t matter how deep the water
if it’s over your head.
It doesn’t matter how far the shore
if it’s out of sight.
It only matters that
you walk to the end of the pier
with your plethora of fears
like pebbles in your shoes
Fling them into the sea and watch
how small they appear
against the horizon
How the whitecaps
drown the sound
of touching water
It only matters
feel free to
I was late again
Slowed by the hubbub of cars
whose drivers were also late again.
So I exit the expressway
to beeline past the traffic knot
through Chicago’s west side
where pigeons and graffiti
compete for spaces to mark.
I took a right and caught a light
beside a school when a boy
darted in front of my car.
He looked back at the school
and picked up his pace
carrying his backpack
a Star Wars lunchbox
and a pistol bigger than his hand.
He wore fear like cops wear authority.
Betting his last birthday
was in the single digits
I wanted to offer a safe haven—
a climate-controlled vehicle
the low drone of news radio,
someone to listen,
deliver him to safety.
But by the time the light changed
he was well past shouting range
and it’s not wise to offer rides
to an upset gun-toting child
who may take me for another threat,
so I curbed those instincts.
I think of him often.
He would be a man now… if he’s alive.
I hope that gun is decaying in the river,
disposed of by his mother’s love.
I hope he found an escape route
through a teacher
through an education
through a dream or a poem.
I hope his biggest problem
is being late for work again.