Trauma obliterates memory,

drowns feeling in a silent tide, misery deep.

A crown of thorns that sits just inside the skull.


Kind is warm, fleeting.

Compassion, connecting;

a current of tears.


One of my friends came out as trans.

I said courage, he said need.

I’m scared for him. And by her.



The previous post, Piano Man, mentioned a performance by pianist Art Resnick and me at the informal entertainment concluding a residential course in Northern California in summer 1993. I’d thought the poem lost, but here it is with Art’s exciting piano accompaniment replaced by the author’s muted cringing.



In a hall of mirrors

Images cascade

Glimpses, voices, parts and holes

Halloween parade.

Three steps forward, two steps back

Leaping like a snail

Clinging on… to the dragon’s tail


Maidens rescue heroes

Princes lose their way

Settle down, make princelings

Nothing left to say.

Terrified the light they knew

Is surely bound to fail

Clinging on… to the dragon’s tail


Wild and wicked places

Good folk never go

Grinning tigers, mocking snakes

Eyes that flash and glow.

Blundering in circles

Searching for the trail

Clinging on… to the dragon’s tail