March 5, 2018

Where the carousel  comes to where…


When the maelstrom makes certain turns to…



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.






1st artist unknown,

treated by

Fleur Talbot






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)


February 14, 2018

All Paul Simon sang  he

Via new phone science  got me


“..half of the time  you’re gone..

but you don’t know where

you don’t know where.”

i  wept  at  work.


Yet i got Simic  in his lunch sack/

I got Irish for when i get home

For salve  & for saving him/

More, I have a mate giving me gladness

Across  the  states

I love indirectly  like a madness


February 14, 2018



I loved   just under my breath

Just above the collar-

Toward the back of her moon-colored sundress.

Hold on  to my breath

Hold,   & I holy hope

Right forthright for our portal opening

& if we’d once/ Go take this chance

This  achy  slow  dance is done today

This must  go & leave  t’heaven

Just one heave away


February 14, 2018



This  one  liaison

We’ll go so  for foreign films

Our unbridled pillow talk there,

On chiseled crystal chaise lounge chairs,

Will be subtitled.


We’d meet.

One moon  might

Lighten  one  clutch,

Tonight  once closed curtains

Might   much/open/legged  open  one

We’d mean

To go  so far as to

Show our gods of love  lots of what they’d bet on,

Completedly   W/some things  &

Unneededly  subtitlings.






February 8, 2018


“..the inevitability of

heart death and heart soar and heart sick and heart ache..”     -EvelynAdams/






It could be worst

When I would hear

It from good sources,

Maybe a back-alley liar.

His last words.


Not a sliver as clever as Wilde,

But ever so slightly, absolutely abstract & absurd

His last words

Might all have been,  “I’ve waited.  Awhile.

All night. Save dawn. I’ve waited.  Until

Watching was silly.

No cues came. No signs sang.

No news hit the front porch.

I waited & watched.

I still wait for bell rang.

I still hold a torch.”


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”






December 31, 2017

picasso is said to have said

“Art  is the lie that tells the truth”.

seems  if he did, seems valid.


(Though  some tries  along these lines

can only shine as sly & slippery lies)


His muy good joke/

& lucky for our sake/

Actually/  the accidental awaits

us/  Fog & smoke machines make

bonfire smoke signals rise up

until unreasonably  sound  Beauty clears/

Us holding the pen? we’re  without a net nor warm blanket.






Sure, sweating stallions are dynamic

& may have beauty

but some  Clomp! the blossoms

god & me made.

clods  now


I know  a show of hands

Could go help  solidify

Some  Freedom Solidarity

In  some look-in lobster  tank.


Odds are  dismal to abysmal.

IF I can be more frank,

When the  independent  finch, for instance,

Finds her very own  airy currents home,

It’s a cinch  she might not light

(Her, broken on a branch?)  (perchance)


When It’s one chance

We had once gone

before  on the long ground,

We  look  down.



November 3, 2017



“as I sleep
fast deep green seas tore at some shore.”

In my defence
I’m sure it’s
that most wordsmiths
have worked the Earth;
its life..its weather, its flora,
in metaphors galore.
This sun, that moon arise. A Rose.
the cliff gales, what the dark knows,
poorly lit paths,
the sway of mayhem—
the sweet wordmaths
configuring out



.                                                                   (from 2008)