I’m a defender 
and a protector
I stick up 
for little guys 
I take shots 
so that others 
don’t have to 
because I know 
I’ll get up 
I always have 
and always will 
I say the
hard things the 
truths that most 
won’t or can’t 
I never enjoy 
it saying it 
but it needs 
to be said 
and not just 
thought about wished
away or forgotten 
so is my
mantel my moniker 
my burden and 
my humblest privilege 
he who speaks 

They like you 
my readers do 
I do too
which is why 
I write you 
besides the fact 
that I think 
about you and 
I think that 
they should too
because you are 
really that special 
and that maybe 
after all this 
you will finally 
believe it too

It’s always the pluck
that seems to resonate 
and never the strike 
or even the stroke 
but just the pluck
even though all happen
upon strings thought tuned
but upon being plucked 
and before being played 
and certainly ever enjoyed 
that very first pluck
informs just about everyone 
the musician the instrument 
and even the audience 
whether or not any 
music is ever made 

When I was 
young there was 
a dry well 
into which I 
would throw stones 
that would land 
with a clunk
when I returned 
to the well 
in my thirties 
it had gained 
some water and 
the stones would 
then splash loudly 
and now when 
I go to 
the same well
it has gained 
so much water 
that indeed ducks 
splash about it
and my stones
land with deep 
kerplunks disappearing down 
into its darkness 
now whether the 
well gained depth 
from my stones 
and some water 
or more water 
and some stones 
doesn’t really matter 
what matters is
that it did
and that now
it is what 
it was supposed 
to be well 

It’s always just one 
note and never one 
song that carries me 
just one note repeated
again and again and 
once again and then 
again once more again 
like those first raindrops 
that fall onto pools 
creating ringlets of water 
that move outwards without 
so much as care
it’s just that note 
that one single note 
that I hear upon
your chest be it
heart beat or sleep