winter wash

Bare beyond belief

upon the sand

under the stand of the lifeguard

they sat on an empty landscape

with the breeze blowing

tender to the touch

raw emotions rolled with the waves

The sunlight washing winter away.



If you were born in the dark ages
and I saw first light today
we would still be friends

no space
no time
no status
would separate us

I could call
and you would be there

with a

“how you doing dick face”

loyal like brothers

willing to bury something in the backyard

nothing could separate us
not dirty deeds
rising with greed
not being born in another time

we would be friends no matter what

you could take a baseball bat to that.

Pocket of Space

I am

Within your grip

the moon the tides
Can not change it

I will struggle
Strain at the hips
Drive my teeth
Through my jaw

before I lose you

There isn’t a force on earth greater than you

Not a pocket of air
More comfortable to be with in
every bit
Of what I am

You grasp

Love Letters

I have no Idea who you call at night. I never asked for your cell number. Its those wild blues. The grey blue, its that laugh. I sat there with a smoke in my mouth. A thousand drags, a thousand draws on life looking at your freckles. I wondered how you looked before the sun came before you were kissed with so much beauty.

I woke like any other morning and looked around me, I looked at the sun through the window, unsure of how late it really was but when I turned I saw your back and each drop of light that ever touched you. I looked over you like a field. How long would it take to get across you? Each freckle a blade of grass. I wondered when first light had touched your back. I was sucked in. The scent of your hair made me breathe deeper. A thousand freckles unsure of where to begin.

The next time I hooked my finger on your jeans, the tip touching your hip bone. Like citrus you said to me and I thought of lemons. I was sure I smelled and tasted of the earth. I was sure I was low tide. But you said no you taste like citrus.

Cookies and giggles we laugh within our eyes. Your sneakers scuffing my shoes. I can still feel your hip bones and the way your breath was drawn as we touched cotton to cotton.

How you said we had gone to far. I agreed and you slept better. You slept better than you had so many nights before. But I lingered in the late night waiting on the chirps of birds because I could not contain myself. Wondering why  I wanted to write love letter again when I never even asked for your number.

Getting Published


I have published 18 articles and poems since May and this is what I learned.


  1.  Put yourself out there.  No one is going to find you in your basement apartment behind your bong or under the beer cans you should be recycling.
  2. Write!  Write as often as you can, when you can and where you can.  I don’t care if it is in the can or on the can.  Write on your gay friend’s white bare ass for all I care.  Write, write and then rewrite.
  3. Know your weaknesses. Work on making them better or at least try to avoid them.
  4. Demand honesty!  You are not going to get the truth from your mom or your girlfriend.  They love you and do not wish to crush your dreams.  Well at least your mom loves you.  I hope.
  5. Deal with it! You’re not Hemingway or James Joyce.
  6. Know who you are!  Make no apologies and find like minded people.
  7. Read!  Read the classics.  They are classics for a reason.  Read the greats in your genre.
  8. Market yourself.  Face the fact that you are a word whore and a pimp all rolled into one.  Shake your money maker Biotch!
  9. Get a website or a blog and update it.  So I don’t follow some of my own advice…sue me!
  10. Write! Write,write and rewrite!
  11. Find writers!  Get them in your corner and bounce ideas off of them.  Let them proofread your work and listen to them.  You do not need their approval just their skills.
  12. Write!  Write, write and rewrite.
  13. Don’t forget! The pen is mightier than the sword.  You are a mighty word throwing thug.  Now go out and kick some ass.



osprey header

Photo by Tom Poet

In one day Cutch managed to fly 286 miles. He made it from Long Island to South Carolina in two days.  Five days later he was in Cuba, he then crossed the Caribbean and by September 27th he has in Columbia.  Tagged with a GPS transmitter he was being watched the whole time by ornithologist Rob Bierregaard.  On the 29th Cutch’s signal stopped moving. Rest assured there were no Colombian cartels involved in his untimely demise.  He died while doing what osprey do, hunt for fish.


Photo “borrowed” from Mr.Bierregaard website

Cutch was accidentally impaled on a piece of a tree sticking out of a pond on the Chico Mono Ranch.  At first Cutch’s death was thought to be an assassination but it turned out to be an accidental suicide. Mr. Bierregaard thought Cutch may have been shot down at a fish farm or something but it turns out he just didn’t see that little bit of branch sticking out of the water.


Yeah I “borrowed” this one too

There is still hope for North Fork Bob an osprey who is figured to arrive here on the 1st or 2nd of April.  North Fork Bob has had a transmitter on since August of 2010 and still appears to be going strong.  That’s good news.

I know the osprey by me is back already and as far as I know he/she doesn’t have a name.  I just call the osprey TP for the piece of white paper sticking out of the nest.

tp osprey

Photo by Tom Poet


osprey flight

 TP taking off after I went to close to the nest

For the full story on Cutch and how he made national news check out the story in The Suffolk Times.  I’ll be keeping an eye on TP since he/she is right by where I go fishing with my girls.  I can always feel spring coming on when the birds of prey arrive on the shores. And Please remember to always check the water before diving.  Have a great summer.


Check out the Cutch’s flight and story here.

North Fork Bob

Richard O. “Rob” Bierregaard, Jr.

Cello Bass Face

All links can be found here.  Thanks Rochelle for hosting.  Warning there is a curse in this one.

Copyright-Roger Cohen


They bellied up to the bar exchanging notes.  One sat, the other stood.

“They’re not the same.”

“You sure?”


“Why did you say it?”

“I didn’t.”

“That’s what you heard.”

“I know what I heard.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

The bartender poured one last drink.    It was hard to tell who was who.

“What’s up with you two?”

“Having an argument about nothing.”


It didn’t matter the sun was rising and the place had been closed for hours.

Their strings out of tune, they went out back, looking to play more than words.

“It’s a Cello!”

“Bass, asshole.”

Sandy & The Great Hurricane of 1938

I have always loved storms.  I would drive over the Robert Moses Causeway during them, drinking a coffee and a smoking a Phatty back in the day.  Of course you can’t get away with that kind of behavior any more.  So I have made adjustments.   I wait until I get to the beach to light one up.  So when Sandy rolled into town I couldn’t help but think about the Long Island Express, Hurricane Gloria and Long Island in general.

The Great Hurricane of 1938, The Long Island Express, The Yankee Clipper…

Facts of the 1938 Hurricane     (Francis, 1998)
  • Peak Steady Winds – 121 mph
  • Peak Gust – 186 mph at Blue Hill Observatory, MA.
  • Lowest Pressure – 27.94 in (946.2 mb) at Bellport, NY
  • Peak Storm Surge – 17 ft. above normal high tide (RI)
  • Peak Wave Heights – 50 ft. at Gloucester, MA
  • Deaths – 700 (600 in New England)
  • Homeless – 63,000
  • Homes, Buildings Destroyed – 8,900
  • Boats Lost – 3,300
  • Trees Destroyed – 2 Billion (approx.)
  • Cost – $620 million (1938)









The Long Island Express ripped a hole through the south fork of Long Island turning Montauk and the rest of the Hamptons into an Island, creating the Shinnecock Inlet and forever changing the landscape of Long Island.  The Inlet still remains open and to this day has the only functioning lock system on Long Island. The 1938 hurricane claimed 29 lives on Dune Road and washed a West Hampton Movie Theater 2 miles out to sea with 21 people in it, projectionist and all.  The theater goers at the matinee drowned to death 2 miles out in the Atlantic Ocean. On Fire Island a thousand Bungalows were destroyed.  The city suffered major damage and the Empire State Building Swayed from the 100 mile an hour winds.  Six hundred people died on Long Island.

Shinnecock Inlet - 1938

The 38 Hurricane started as a cat 5 and landed as a cat 3 hurricane the cost in property is estimated at 18 billion in today’s dollars!

What if a cat 5 landed today?  What would happen?

I would be strapped to the Bald Hill Monument or on top of Jane’s Hill.

Look at the map…Long Island is nothing but a barrier beach for Connecticut.

Really there isn’t much we can do…We are Islanders and one day we may be washed away to sea.  You have to face that fact and love and respect the ocean, that’s really all you can do!  Of course you can come up with a few hare brain ideas in case of a Discovery Channel super storm.

  • Ax in attic in case of flooding

  • Kayak on roof

  • Pad, pen and bottle of Jack. Drink Jack, write letter throw message into sea.

  • Hope to be rescued

I have some biblical ideas like building a boat for 7 million people and placing it on top of Jane’s Hill.  But that sounds nuttier than a kayak on the roof.  I can hear the conversation now…

“Hey Tom what’s with the kayak on the roof ?”

“Ohh that’s my escape plan. Couldn’t get the funding for Noah’s Ark on Jane’s Hill”

“Kids don’t go near him.  He’s crazy !”

Perhaps I’ll put the kayak in the attic…

Maybe I am crazy….When Hurricane Gloria hit in 1985 I was dropping a hit of acid and hanging out on the roof of the near by strip mall.  Of course I was 17 back then and slightly more reckless…So at the age of 44 when Sandy showed her nasty face I relied on a good old bottle of vodka and a lighter for comfort.

The last civilized drink I made before Sandy showed up is what I call the Blueberry Storm.  I had to use a blender to make it and I knew it would be my last bit of the creature comforts we take for granted.  Like Ice and electricity!

The Sunday before the storm I went out and purchased some ice but didn’t fill up my car’s gas tank.  Big mistake.  Three days later when I managed to get off the block I went searching for gas.  I found myself on “E” in a rough town and by some odd luck on a line with only four cars in front of me.  I filled the tank, pulled out of the station and when I looked down the main road I saw the real line about a hundred cars thick.  I didn’t cut the gas line on purpose.

Here is one of my theories .. the people waiting couldn’t see the other pumps from their line of sight and were unable to pull into them from where they were because of the congestion.

The other theory is… the people on line for gas didn’t say a word to me because they thought I was ‘FIVE O’ or some crazy white boy.  Either way I am glad nothing bad came of it and I had gas…as selfish as that sounds that’s the truth.  I made that tank of petrol last ten days.

I went nine days without light and power and that is nothing compared to what some people have gone through.  I have no reason to complain.  My cousin lost her home in Breezy Point.  Friends and family have offered me a place to stay, warm showers, food and heat.  I showered at several locations over the last week or so, when I couldn’t get off the block the first few days I took cold showers.  Needless to say with all the downed trees there is plenty of wood around to burn in the fireplace.

106 people have died in the USA from hurricane Sandy including a guy on Long Island crushed by a tree right in front of his kids….

Feel blessed you are alive, do not forget those in need and do your best to remain calm.  But most importantly of all remember this will happen again and it may be a lot worse next time.  It could be like the hurricane of 1938.

As for me…I am comfortable knowing I live on an Island. As much as I like the country side I have no plans to ever move into the mountains .  I love the ocean and without her I would not feel complete.  I’ll take the risk, respect her and never leave her side but you can bet if I ever see the ocean draining out before a tsunami I will be the first “mo fo” running for high ground.

“There goes that crazy white boy who cut the gas line!”

“He sure is a running fool”

Hurricanes are going to happen and when they do you need to be inland or off the Island.  If a tsunami hits..well…RUN!  Not that running would help.   Please don’t forget IT’S AN ISLAND.

Be Safe out there and do not forget your floaties.
















Mediterranean Shrimp

Well…I cook a lot and I just loved this recipe.  So give it a try and I bet you will love it too.  I changed a few things from the original.  Black olives are optional.



  • 1 box uncooked angel hair pasta or whatever pasta you like(save extra pasta for next day to make a chicken noodle soup)
  • 1-1/2 pounds uncooked medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
  • 1-1/2 teaspoons olive oil
  • 3 garlic cloves, minced
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon pepper
  • 2 cans (14.5 oz cans) chicken broth 
  • 2 tablespoons lemon juice
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
  • 2 teaspoons cornstarch
  • 1 bag of baby spinach
  • 1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
  • 1/4 cup minced fresh basil
  • 5 pitted black olives sliced


  • Cook pasta according to package directions.
  • In a large skillet, saute shrimp in oil until shrimp turn pink. Add the garlic, salt and pepper; cook 1 minute longer. Remove and set aside.
  • In the same skillet, heat 1 can broth, lemon juice and dried basil. In a small bowl, combine cornstarch and 1/2 can broth until smooth; stir into the pan. (Save the other half can of broth  for a quick chicken noodle soup for lunch the next day.)  Bring to a boil; cook and stir for 2 minutes or until thickened. Stir in spinach and shrimp; cook until spinach is wilted.
  • Drain pasta; stir pasta into shrimp mixture until it looks perfectly coated. Sprinkle with cheese, sliced black olives and fresh basil. Yield: 4 servings.