Latest Update: June 2015
New Poetry in Forum, new anthology for sale in Lenore's Writings
Welcome to writers, readers, thinkers, and fellow dreamers.
This site is for any and all who seek to reach beyond the mundane
and open doors to discovery.
I rinse the colander free of pierogie remnants
you tell me that your father worked as an iceman
yes, an iceman for the Citizen Ice and Fuel folks.
What needs sluicing
and what is best left in the pot?
I hear If I wasn't so lazy
as I soap and wash and dry,
releasing your almost ninety-four.
There must be a sculpture somewhere
an iron-gray bridge
stalwart, swayed into the gusts
hands splaying, fingers webbed,
that Before adroitly caught.
By Glynda Shaw
I brace the mitre box
Slantwise slotting the fine toothed saw.
Balsomous resins rise. Pine dist wafts.
Allergic to Work!
I carry the A-brace to the two by fours,
each angled at 45 degrees.
Sally, take away your fetch toy!
Keep that up and we'll have
the Leaning Tower of Peter.
Now quickly mark for the drill-press to
accomodate half-inch steel pins.
I hear Keith Holsapple,
His big Boeing grin as
he harangues us about trusses.
Spaced on square-beam footers
I brace my feet, tipping up and over
eight-foot plywood sheet.
Leah! Hope you stepped nimbly!
As the sheet comes slaloming down again.
At last, roofboards in place
I sigh relief as nails sufficient to steady, drive.
The roof, wood-covered and peaked,
now tarped against Winter snow melt;
I offer Peter Burro his lodging.
He snort-sniffs a bit,
deigns a clump of
I stretch cramping back, flex aching fingers,
take up the marker to scrawl over the entrance