S W I N G S

July 11, 2018

“What you gain on the hobby horse,
You lose on the swings”
-Van Morrison, from “Thanks For The Information”
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Before me, befitting my day’s end
I can make sunrise’s spray  a sandstorm
I can take salsa splayed on something cheesy
I can carry time’s weight easy
And that’s a comfort

Before sleep, I’ve always shunned introspection
An unexamined life ain’t worth missing sleep
I can forget my regrets
I downplay the way-unsound passionate
That can sorta be a comfort

.When men & women must contend
That son of man will first extend
A hand to broken men
That’s some comfort
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In a faraway hometown here
With a faraway feel
This dream is a theatre feature
They some seem to run off track
Reel to reel
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I’m secure in
It’s recouring

That’s some comfort
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“DETAINED”, CAUGHT

June 5, 2018

What were they thinking

I’m not to leave town

I’m a faceted test pattern  Blinking

Personas of interest  Renown

Only to the  powers that be

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Ok  I get cagey  occasionally

Ok  yet I remain   With the reminder

Of stoic  stands  that been

Lost, inconsequential,

Cost  monumental  to just a man

seattle 2014 065

Photo: my  “Hell’s Ditch”

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“It is the burden of life to be many ages

without seeing the end of time.”  Jim Harrison

ONLY CONSIDERED

May 2, 2018

 

the creatures were there at their creek

when they witnessed me by the moon

I was quiet enough on my path

but they looked up, then back down to their drinking

 

I was so lost they didn’t scatter

so lost the full moon only considered my prayers

I got turned around when the wind picked up

I can’t find my feet or so far

my way back

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20180427_204049.jpg

 

FAINT MISTS PAINT A MAZE

April 22, 2018

 

SALLYHAWKINS

 

“FAINT MISTS PAINT A MAZE”

is warranted as a title,

to be entitled, for a forward

to a body of work about:

highland trails, thorough haze,

brash dense brush, broken fences,

rainy bald boulders, wildflowers,

sunlight threads, down onto mosses,

log lichen, & mushrooms.

And as sea fog works so/ as a grey god’s cloaks,

far mountains peer over as   pe’res.  

Clinky silver rivulets,

where waterbugs & yellow leaves

float off./  I can’t.  I’ve rolled off

those  fertile  sheets.   & down.

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.            The image is, for me, robbed oscar award winner, the lovely Sally Hawkins

FREE MAPS

April 17, 2018

 

For now, awhile, I won’t let you pull me from the wreckage

Still, how  you hold my hand, to still both of us

Until the jaws of life  arrives.

Tho’ I’m not at a loss of words, I’m lost

In thought. “I’m lost”, I thought.

Perhaps the filling station’s free maps

Forbid us from the hidden costs.

 

PORTENDING A PORTAL

March 5, 2018

Where the carousel  comes to where…

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When the maelstrom makes certain turns to…

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“THIS IS WHERE I CAME IN!”

I’ll quip, & I could wink,  then break up the fourth wall

I’ll step off,  & start off,  I’ve forced   a freefall,

For any form of  free   I will welcome.

If I find my feet  I can become

A pilgrim  on path,

A pilgrim back  filling his path.

 

 

 

 

CAROUSEL

1st artist unknown,

treated by

Fleur Talbot

 

 

 

OF FINAL NIGHTS

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/

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(from 2011)

 

Fragments On Lofty

June 23, 2017

 

 

It’s not been my story  to take inventory/

It’s  I can’t even   scare up  scant worry

About what I have, About what I would want/

I suppose  I could pose  but I can’t/

It’s  said/

“An  unexamined  life

Is  good  as  dead.”/

I said/

I’m a body afloat, solid thoughts go float too, y’know/

Lofty thoughts  not  caught  can ride

On both tides  High and low/

I’d deny having lied, but replied.

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.                                                                                                           (years & years back)

IF I MINDED

June 7, 2017

I’ve been biding my live time

My trivial “real”-life trials

All the challanges this chuff can ignore

All the more he might’ve  imagined

If i minded any more

For somehow here  and not

For somewhere not

B U R D E N S

May 18, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PETITIONS

“The blind man loves you with his eyes, the deaf man with his music.  The hospital, the battlefield, the torture room, serve you with numberless petitions. On this most ordinary night, so bearable, so plentiful in grave distractions, touch this worthless ink, this work of shame. Inform me from the great height of your beauty.”

-Leonard Cohen, “Petitions”, from Death Of A Ladies Man

 

 

 

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U N B U R D E N E D

One  way  to  be  unburdened

Might be   small talk, not hearsay,

A  Big-hearted  acumen,

Bare  arms,  &  mercy