February 14, 2018

 “The eternal angle
Between land and sky
Divided by the wind
The immense angle
Of the straight road
Divided by a wish”
                                   Excerpt from Federico Garcia Lorca
.N O   B U R D E N
it’s clear
god’s an accomplice
in our deception
the perfect crime
for the church of no burden ;
our chances,  our exchanges, our chime
 I have allowed me
my grey canvas, my grey cloud forecast,
you have spoiled me
with your spill of colour,
your display, your vase of colour
your face.
I’ll stir those blends of colour
on a broken palette piece
no burden
&  start to start to understand
to masterplan my masterpiece
it just might
be a study in dark and light
direct light smooches in a diner lot
like lovers do
the side of her that faced the sunrise, new
I cupped my hand to shade  her face, that’s what I do
Keep my love in shadow
but her cheek was hot
   (from 2006, & still, for sunni)


January 31, 2018

between  my  matins

& the very next dawn’s

last ditch whispers,


Elucidating  light  is  just  off.








“There’s nothing good because nothing lasts
And all that comes here, it comes here to pass.
I would voice my pain, but the change wouldn’t last.
All that comes, it comes here to pass.”

                                                         AVETT BROTHERS, from “Down With The Shine”






November 17, 2017

I say  “shudder to think”  is a gothic cliche’

But at times  all too accurate,

The  strictest  depiction,

When I would  shudder & shake some

As I stood  on my sidewalk  in lieless sun

With what I witness,   with what I thought



There’s not  much white light

In the shadows I can cast



August 22, 2017

“Under the willow tree I hide my mirror,

small enough to be mistaken for morning dew.

I look for a point of origin, something to explain how and why

we all must see it through.”          



Encased  in  impasse,

I couldn’t even eye other passengers

past my papers.

I wouldn’t watch what

my window offered:

small towns, & all their lights,

Reflections, inside, of us riding passersby.

We keep on sweeping by.


Inspecting  these all  aspects of my work,

Taking stock,    this stall  is a lock still.

Y’see, yesterday’s night

I ran nine yellow lights,

& Just as there were dares that didn’t time out right

I’ll just decide to still ride




















the sublime opening verse is from my favorite online poet

Allison Grayhurst, from “Eating From An Imaginary Spoon”












July 16, 2017




The taste of  spray,

Back splayed against the lighthouse wall,

Is saltier/ The roar of  final nights

Saddled on sea wall gusts

Is Fiercer/ When strength one requires

To withstand and understand  such threats

Is steadier/ The beacon’s cliff path

Is grounds for  light/






(from 2011)



May 1, 2017







There ought better be a beacon
on a pacific coast cliff could be
where hope’s light works with sea horn
where a night light works without warning
It forces & forges  the blackest  fog & forests
There can be a candle
in a window with enough heat
to fire the hearth
to light one lone solitary stone room
(from 2010)
.”Writing is nothing more than a guided dream” -Jorge Luis Borges



April 27, 2017


” Had Richardson sat in the piercing shade…”

You’ll say,  “In lieu of  with us   in the

Cruel, as a rule, sun on us.

He’d, it’d suffice to say,  suffer less,   unless

It’d be meaningful to a man like him to  show.”

I’ll  go,  “Sure enough, he’ll tough it home to suffer,  tho’

I think that ,yes, later at  blackest ink late,

He’ll love chopping onions, through all of their skins,

To sweeten his red sauce.  String section perfecting chaos as its tuning just begins.

One escape, esconsed in wet white cotton drapings,

Kind  chimey  showers

Keep rhythms  in Richardson’s shapings.

They  can   steepen,   that man’s dreams’  healing powers.”



January 4, 2017

Unless  these  kisses

Fortuitous   but for the most part,

Stay imaginary, yet not useless,

Stay  &  not  start.


I  will  wear  Hope’s

Clandestine  cloaks

& will not fear  openly  for the most part,

Right in defining light/ Right off the shadow

Where  cooly  I  coddle  our  heart.


Lost light  looks in

Falls in  off my ownly window

& Stays on my wall-stocked stairwell

& Steers over  my bar  for mirror play


Yes I’d probably yield to my propensity,

As today embarks,

To do a darkumentary

Chronicling my chromatic day


20160407_114141 (1)


I got word from my brother,

A suggestion from one lover;

It’s still  finely time to fill in those spaces,

I will take on cyber lawyers, to fill out a cyber will.


My cards splayed out on tables,

A gasp goes down  ’round the drawn crowd,

As they turn to peak at my color

Already leaking from my face.

It may be that they maybe wait.



Something. I turn up  to yearn her coming  colour,

Sumptuously  flushing her chest and her cheek.

I can very hardly wait.

She’ll  start  to  try  to  speak…

And I’ll find and see

All in all, the riches mined & left shining

After finalities,

Are just filthy lucre

Aside memories