I have 2 new poems in Volume 57, Fall/Winter of the Schuylkill Valley Journal. Here are the poems:

For the Asking…

Strolling beside Spring Creek,
I look for trout in the deeper

water. It looks so cold
I would need hip boots,

hooks, lines and sinkers,
and a personality transplant

to catch anything other
than a lingering cold.

One summer day
Dad took us deep-sea

fishing. He was a born fisherman
with a cast iron stomach

and the patience of a saint—
Saint Cabbie of the Brooklyn

Docks. We always came
home with a pail full of flounder.

I knew I’d never meet you here—
yet I often expect you around

the next bend.
And though I know you’ve

been confined a thousand
miles away, stranger

things have happened,
as dad would say

while baiting my hook.
And that improbable

dream might be ours
like fish learning to fly,

you know,
just for the asking.

Out Loud

Last week—alone in the market
I began to talk to myself.
Simple reminders like don’t forget

the milk, that would normally pass
through my mind, I said out
loud. Softly first, as if testing

the acoustics, then forcefully
with the appropriate gestures.
I am more presentable than most street

people, so the looks I got
we’re not fearful—just bemused
as if people were telling themselves

“Just like Uncle Leo,
before they took him to the nut house..”
Truthfully, I liked the feeling

reminding myself, on the way home that
“I’m good at this,” in a fine falsetto
that made me laugh—out loud of course.

Tonight, after much discussion,
We ordered “Conversational Italian.”
We felt it was a nice touch.