Secret Bedside Life

It needs to be said.

There were regular close encounters
in the night. If I turned my head
to the right, there was a window, a desk,
a Coca-Cola mirror, a pastoral neighbor,
sleeping well I presumed.
Everything was (well) right.
If I turned my head to the left,
there was a darkened door. And a
clown poster: God knows.
So it was observance not to say anything,
but to push away what’s left
with the back of my thighs,
and my 8-year-old back which stiffened
in this ritualistic bedtime plight.

28: Real Toads


My Good Night

toss your gladiolus

to the rhythm of the frogs

cover sleepy stones

with wide umbrella palms

be extra kind to those

tired garden mums

and tuck me in gently

with quiet cricket songs

Sweet Dreams


No, daddy. You can’t put milk in my pinkie-pie castle moat. I’m allergic.

Allergic ba-zer-gic!  No such thing in dreamland.

tonight you will taste

the milky way’s sweetness

through a crazy straw

 Read more sleepy-head tales at

A Goodnight Blessing

may all of your days
receive with two grateful hands
nightfall’s gentle squeeze