That time I featured at the Twisted Poets reading series.

Too busy to blog lately as I’m in writing and editing mode, this one of my latest efforts.


We are warriors, from Beowulf’s might
to the steel resolve of #MeToo,
defending our realms on the ground,
in fields, swamps or office towers.

My tag was Tomboy; armed with long
legs, a hard head and will of iron,
intrepid as any FPS avatar,
I carved sagas and slayed

with a wooden stick turned bazooka,
defending our makeshift fortress
against marauders, human or beast,
battle-sweating and vanquishing foes.

We braved treacherous ditches,
lecherous uncles, concealed glass shards,
blizzards, bumps, badger holes, bug bites,
thin ice, the vertigo of sky-high train trestles,

the ambush of leeches
and the stench of skunk cabbage.
Masters of evasion we dodged coyotes,
bears, thundering big rigs, sinister wells,

stumbling, squawking inebriated
parental units and lurking lone dudes
beckoning from their Pintos
in desolate parking lots.

Unrelenting scouting missions led us
to caves, derelict farmhouses,
looming, gnarled trees, and the vast,
echoing unknown of storm drains.

Our non-linear escapades were bound
by no script or code. No one lagged or rage-quit
and when trapped indoors we engaged
in ancient rites of Rummy, Crazy 8s and checkers.

My son, a paladin forged in digital fires
embarks on galaxy spanning quests, every challenge,
every boss fight a step toward connection,
bonds formed through adversity.

He’s learned to navigate, strategize,
communicate and persevere,
face down demons with a continent-
spanning team of allies united in purpose.

Beneath the gaze of the sun
or the glow of screens,
we share a legacy of adventure,
resilience and ceaseless discovery.

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