Carl Sandburg wrote, "Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance." These are my words, a restless substitute for flight, pooling around my feet. Both song and poetry, I hope you enjoy.

Email: ketchcetera@gmail.com

The Words...

dissatisfied god

a funeral procession down a tree-lined lane
of rusted derelicts, old trucks - hoods
raised as tombstones in long, untended yards,
past a one-window shanty leaning precariously
as a child's crayon drawing put quickly together [...]

thoreau's pumpkin

this is no man's garden
this unhandselled globe
i sit here on thoreau's pumpkin
to divine the stories i've been told
and while i ponder my beginnings [...]


east of jesus
west of here
in a place quite close
just a step through the mirror
where catfish all wear dogtags [...]


losing time, a mental fugue
such eloquent dumb, withdrawn to muse
mutation of thought spins a wondrous dream
of things unimagined, never seen
i don't know where i'm going [...]


both scatological and anthropoligical
the myth of man's beginning is somewhat illogical
and while for these words, i may feel the flame
apostasy nor heresy are my desired aim
but to say in God's image that i was created [...]

day's end

the sun diluted
shafts of light
shot through the clouds
feathered in reds and golds
whispers of wind [...]

About Me

Father, writer, poet, producer, director, actor, singer, guitarist, graphic designer, raconteur, excellent typist, determined, profound speaker, zero-gravity thinker, sage advisor, gruntled, website builder, skeptic, intermittently quixotic, historian, foodie...approaching all endeavors with a bit of Sprezzatura.