Here is a dementia-related poem: The chimp and the near-chimp His head is not a man cave. It is far more. In this burrow, treaties are...

The water never stops changing Glass on glass Slips of time catch so that the sound of the water moves me Gentle slops beneath boats...

Shingles and grits were true obstacles that we met They took the form of disease with a smiling cheek They caused distress and pulled...

Joy of orbits you make Earth tilt and bake the sun do not depart stay in...

In case you missed it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZA0upoJG0M (just copy the above into your browser) Enjoy!

The truth hits her this nightfall time hands in pockets She see its mouth saying words that film directors understand the love...

Jelly babies are glucose babies. They drive me. Their plumpness and fruit juices fill my cells. They wink before...

A little triolet for a Friday morning. --- Stratus I can almost touch this cloud It’s blandness flies low The world of grey must be proud...

Chromatography is a laboratory technique for the separation of a mixture into its components. Tomatography Have you ever wanted to...

It has been a while but here is the next part of my long science/faith poem: A supernatural presence pulses. It impinges on science and...

(a vision in the 1980s in a laboratory) Chlorine: I can be your friend that cleans. My bleach removes waste. Me: Can you...

Your soul trades in peacetime coins in rural comfort blankets. Your stomach feels the touches of trees made in Georgian times to line...

Here is the third poem that Dreich just published! -- I Lists are my saving graces. They are clouds resting on the sea in early evening....

Her persona is caring. Stunning. Ultraviolet brinks with bright intensity. Giving without violence. I heat up from time to time. Cheeks...

Gasping for sea air the sky shows its belt of fire. Sandy flatlands kneel.

This is her last chance - like the queen of cats on life nine. Caught up in the sins of a man, his gristle, no more. Coarse sands grind...

There is just enough moon-crescent light to stoke the fires. The area of a rectangle is a function of its length and width. These two...

The illusion works better than orange, sodium streetlights. All I could ever wish for. Heartfelt and hearty. Domestic bliss, a pedestal...

Holidays are the icing on the cake. The buttercream. Bad times in our lives swallow kindnesses. The hurting ice. Water droplets lose heat...

My bloodline forms road markings as I walk through the village. Rough senses of rawness and rage and a rare resilience creep across my...