Stephen Scaer

Here’s hoping the years will be kindand plenteous; through them you findnew charms in your lover,and should you discovera flaw, you’ll be willfully . . . . Continue Reading »

She texts atop Mount Washingtonthen switches to her headphoneswhen she descends the gulches ofthe presidential deadzones.Her solar-powered iPod Touchhas seasons five through nineof Gossip Girl in case she’s forcedto spread her tent off-line.On Valley Way she pauses forA selfie and hits share.She . . . . Continue Reading »

Make sure you give yourself a chance to grieve, A parent handout helpfully suggests. My last one’s gone; I thought she’d never leave. Children at this stage in life are guests who have outstayed their welcome. Why deceive myself, pretend I’m sad when empty nests are full of . . . . Continue Reading »

Come, Holy Spirit, fill me with affection for sycophantic colleagues who pretend a boss’s remark is witty; the projection of Power Points that stray from the agenda with pie charts, false and darkly personal, that narrow my dominion to a sliver, and bullets saying things are worse in all of my . . . . Continue Reading »

The stream beneath the site of our proposal at Vista Valley Country Club’s faux bridge has brought us here to shop for a disposal on Friday night at Lowe’s on Sunset Ridge uphill from Toys-R-Us. Our love was founded and sealed when we agreed to wear these bands. These symbols of infinity . . . . Continue Reading »

Luther in the year he spent as Junker Joerg in Wartburg towers, translated the New Testament to pass the everlasting hours. Though living as a refugee Erasmus wrote his tour de force. In Praise of Folly’s said to be the product of a trip by horse. With dinners late, D’Aguesseau saw an . . . . Continue Reading »

Truant from April chores I daydream in a chair beneath a tree that scatters its petals when it stirs, the way a girl might scatter blossoms before a litter that brings a self-made god exultant down her road, while Calvinistic bees insist that glory’s brief. Extend the allegory: should petals . . . . Continue Reading »

Every Columbus Daythe locals bring their chairsand watch a trebuchetlaunch pumpkins past a fortof tin, as engineersat play attempt to crushthe record for the sport of hurling giant squash .It must have been a shockwhen such a monster threwsilent rounds of rockinto the market squarehundreds of years . . . . Continue Reading »