What's Mona Lisa Got to Smile About (originally published in the Slightly Off-Beat Poets Anthology "Many Voices ~ One Stage")

 
What’sMona Lista Got to Smile About Anyway?
           
What’s Mona Lisa got to smile about, anyway?
I bet Leonardo was no treat to be around.
I bet he never cared to hear what she had to say
 
About the day’s popular sonnets, or satirical plays,
Or even whatever hot gossip had been making the rounds.
So, what did Mona Lisa have to smile about, anyway?
 
If a modern artist were to paint her today
There’d be an accompanying video with stereo sound
So, we’d have permanent record of what she had to say.
 
If I could travel back to those days, I’d be willing to pay
Leonardo in Dollars or Euros or Kroners or Pounds,
To ask “Hey, what was she smiling about, anyway?”
 
Instead, she sits frozen, and Leonardo’s gone away
As thousands of tourists stand silently ‘round
As if expectantly waiting to hear what she’ll say;
 
Perhaps something witty or silly, or suitably gay.
But not one of them yet has ever found
What Mona Lisa’s got to smile about, anyway,
Or if she ever had anything interesting to say.

Coming Events

            

COMING EVENTS

Much excitement here in Mosherland at the moment, as A Muster of Melodious Musings (2025 - Metaphysical Fox Press) has hit the streets! The book made its public debut on March 13 during the open mic portion of the monthly Pour Me A Poem reading series in Mansfield, MA - my poetry home base.

In addition to various other open mic events, I'm lining up some feature reading spots in the next few months, where I'll be reading more from Muster, as well as whatever else feels right at the moment. There will be copies of the book for sale at all these events!

Here's what's on the horizon

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September 13 - 6pm - Opening reception for Poetic Visions, an exhibit of visual art inspired by poetry...including one of my poems, "Raymond Carver's Toaster"! Held at the True Grit Art Gallery in Middleboro MA, the event will feature readings of the five chosen poems by the poets, with the inspired artwork on display. The art and the poems will remain on display for two weeks, with a closing reception on September 27 at 2pm.

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September 14 - 1pm - one of two Featured Readers at Slightly Off-Beat Poets event at a private residence in Grosvenordale CT. This one is invitation only, so if you're interested let me know and I'll see what I can do 😉

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October 12 - 1pm - Visual Inverse, an ekphrastic afternoon - join me and over 20 other poets as we read poems inspired by art from the annual juried show at the Plymouth Center for the Arts, in downtown Plymouth MA. Last year's event was an absolute joy, and this year promises to be even better.

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January 23 20026

New Book from Finishing Line Press! 

Relict is a chapbook of poems centered around the death of my father. It deals with questions of grief and loss, but also celebrates the ties between a father and a son, and explores questions of generational legacies.

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March 12 2026 - Thursday - 7pm - Feature Reader at Pour Me A Poem in Mansfield MA. More details to follow, but this will be one of my first public readings from my chapbook Relict, slated to be published by Finishing Line Press in late January.

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March 21 - Saturday - 2pm - Feature Reader at Book Lover's Gourmey in Webster MA, with open mic.

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The entire month of April 2026 - Double Vision, and ekphrastic partnership between myself and artist Becky Haletky, in the Dolphin Gallery of the Hingham Public Library, HIngham MA. Opening reception tbd, but probably Saturday April 4.

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April 28 2026 - Uncommon Reading at the Hingham Public LIbrary, Hingham MA - an eclectic group of poets, Uncommon bring varying approaches and backgrounds together in a public reading of their work. Uncommon is John Holgerson, Elizabeth Birch, Mark Walsh and me.

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Be sure to check back here regularly for more news!

Coloring (originally published in The Literary Underground - 3/9/2025)

Coloring
 
My parents bought a used ’65 Dodge Dart,
white inside and out, dad’s pride and joy,
and I, just a boy left unbuckled, untethered,
saw the back of the front seat as a blank
canvas, which I covered in patternless
Crayola-tones, an abstract masterpiece, faded
to black and white in memory. Consequences
swift but not corporal. Lesson learned:
elbow grease cleans wax off vinyl.
 
Flash forward to a different world where
artificial light explodes from all
my screens, distracting and assaulting me
with hues no naive technicolor musical
could have foretold, while a gloomy
future looms uncertainly in shades of gray
and sepia-brown, and my clicking knees
and knuckles count the seconds. Punishment
for the simple crime of having survived.
 
And now, having lived through sixty-two
gray winters, green springs, white-hot
summers and firework-bright autumns,
all scrambled together in a shapeless swirl
of errors and triumphs, revelations and deceits,
injuries sustained and inflicted,
 
I still paint outside the lines, with words
instead of crayons, and still usually clean up my own mess.

Always Be Writing

 Always Be Writing
 
When you wake in the night dreaming
a poem about a lake-side cottage in the mountains,
you should sit up and make some notes, just a few lines
to act as blueprint, without regard for meter or metaphor,
then go back to sleep.
 
Once the sun is up and the coffee’s been made, begin to build.
Use some weathered clapboard cliches for an alliterative exterior.
Apply a fresh coat of paint for a more original interior.
Dig a septic tank in the back, away from the road,
flush away all unnecessary words.
 
Make the front steps straight and true for your foot.
Find every rhyme, whether at the end of a line or not.
If you’ve planted too many similes as shrubs
underneath the picture window, rip them out, like a carpenter
tears out rotten floorboards, or a dentist removes a decaying tooth.
 
A skylight would provide illumination, but resist the temptation of a wall-sized TV,
you’re better off with bookshelves and a writing desk.
Don’t worry if the windows or verses aren’t all the same size, if some shingles are different colors than  
     others, or if some lines are too long for the page.
It’s fine to consult the opinions of experts,
just don’t let them edit you out.
 
Soon you may want to ask friends to visit,
though, not too many friends and not every weekend.
Ask them to bring their own pillows and towels, to find their own meanings, to hear their own rhythm.
Don’t be concerned with guest bedrooms or linens.
This is your place to escape the madness.
And never stop rewriting.

Stealthy Thief

 Stealthy Thief

 
Oh, Time, stealthy thief,
who snatches every breath,
every heartbeat and memory,
- where do you hide?
 
Where do you stash
all the blessings you’ve stolen,
all the forgotten glances,
caresses and kisses?
 
You must have some bolt-hole
or safe-house to hide in
with all of those moments
you’ve ravaged and pillaged.
 
Like a dragon who piles up
treasure uncounted
in his secret cave in some
great northern mountain,
and lies down upon it
to sleep through the winter
just waiting for springtime
to gather some more.

****from my book A Muster of Melodious Musings (Metaphysical Fox Press, 2025)