Drive to the ocean

‘He’s blue
With a long tail
and a spike
With big wings
He’s got three eyes
and white, long teeth
and long sharp claws
and fire and pink
and he’s dangerous and scary’

-Gavin Arron Taggart

I asked our three year old, Gavin, what his favorite dragon was. We were driving to the ocean to look for dorsal fins in the waves.

You told me this description today, 12/30/18. I hope you read this someday.

I love you.




When I’m an old man
I hope to have grown not into bitterness
but into a final version of self
that was given to me through
the experiences of my life
and that I’ve become graceful enough
to share any qualities of goodness
to whomever wishes to know it,
at their own pace and not at the judgement of mine.

-M. Taggart

Published Work: (Recently Updated)


Over the river and through the woods…

Ohhhh I’m in a good Christmas mood! This will be a great few days. We’re headed to Western, MA to enjoy the Berkshires and the farmland that comes with the valleys and mountains.

This is a new emotion for me. Feeling this joy on this Holiday. I know it’s because I have Megan and Gavin in my life. I love being a father and husband. I was made for this.

Merry Christmas!



Odd Walking Thoughts

Clean writing feels like sleep. Eventually a reason to wake happens and we’re still thinking of the dream which hated us, or loved and still smell on our lips; not all dreams end when we’re awake as we pull them with us without permission into the daytime life we live, and around the mouths we currently know. Maybe it’s best to find the full moon and not sleep. Maybe it’s best to stand in the cold stream skipping rocks and counting, alone, guided by nothing but ringlets which all drift away from their center. Or, maybe it’s best to wake and write the best we can without hesitation.

-M. Taggart
copyright 2018

Poem- Hello, There.

I have never seen a ghost.
I hope one has seen me.
I do believe I have felt
an impressive dedication
for me to have felt the presence
of one, but I cannot say for sure.
As I look out my window at the
wet and very grey afternoon,
I see how the many naked branches
could provide a very fine harbor
for my eyes to finally appreciate
the traveling of someone no longer
with us. IN the flesh and blood.
For now I’ll consider the steady rain as
a reminder of my affection for the unknown.

-M. Taggart