P I E

June 19, 2018

 

“I’m quite tired of beating myself up to write.  I think I’ll start letting the words slip out like a tired child. “Can I have a piece of pie” he asks, and then he’s asleep back on the cusp of the moon.”                                                             ~ Jim Harrison

“It’s important  what I’m doing here”

I whispered in the corner seat

In yr Uberwaaaiting room

When I borrowed a pen

I had intentions one usually would wait on

But couldn’t just wait

.

I used to carry a backpocket pad

To  get it down

When I was a kid

I stole this bit from my 1st herowriter kid

Who I loved that he showed me sacred acts

I could write/

Caress the delicious lips of the Mystic/

And  Awe  All/

That comes of it/

.

.

.

“life is like a stage, I guess

love is stages of undress”

DELIRIUM TREMENDOUS

side effects may include

-absently staring into space (not time)

-walking into walls

-walking through walls

-delusions (the good kind)

-A cute optimism

-serious loss of scepticism, doubt, & Down.

-control issues

-Fact, being better than it seems

-a packed pocketful of dreams

-spells of snow angels

-pretty picturewindows in a bomb shelter

-There’s a bird on a word

-There’s a drunk in a midnight chord

-we all scream.. for vanishing cream

-Alas, Atlas, tonight at least…
-don’t operate heavy machinery

-Blue Skies

Advertisements

 

 

 

 

An ordinary miracle

Might  make my day  good night.

An everyday freak  hailstorm

Should soften the  certain gravitas of  agony..

Would my monday to monday/ Gone on to a good gravy, when

My  dumptruck  of good luck   sails in?

All this will be laid to waste.

Then  strong  sprouts/ in not long/ will  no doubt

Green  the  place.

.

.

.

.

.

(5 yrs back)

 

 

 

…but from here;  a boxed baggage bin,

in whatever vessel burning,

Point on  into blank,  frigid  forths.

Andever vexed in yearning.

 

Blind Pilgrims; taxed temporal things

Kinshipbourne, trapped, as my fathers.

Captive on this  course, We’re  bound to be,

Forlorn,  for treks  on farther.

 

 

 

 

from many years ago, for  Daddy

 rest in peace, b.3/21/29-d.5/29/59

FIERCE PHALANXES

May 17, 2018

Her heartbreaking fuses

Popped one by one   useless

His hearing distant thunders

Scared him, scarred him

far ago

A  steady  rough  ruckus

The  steeds’  hooves  deep in dust

For  needs for tender mercies 

Form  now  in firm phalanxes

not far ago   at all

Landscape W/ Red Roots

February 21, 2018

LANDSCAPE  WITH  RED  ROOTS

.

Mangroves  exposed

I suppose  I’m still  within

Walking  trees?

I bet it’s the breeze exposed stalks

Meant deep in the loamy dirts

I Kick through my feet still walk.

Let go away from the vision’s skirts.

Toddle off,

To Twist over a vista he sees

To a view he can see, One he will see.

.

.

.

chaim soutine

Chaim  Soutine’s–“Landscapes With Red Roofs”

My Lofty Thoughts

November 24, 2017

It’s not been my story   to take inventory/

It’s  I can’t even fake  the worry

About what I have, What would I want/

I suppose  I could pose  but I can’t/

It’s  said/

An  unexamined  life

Is  good  as  dead/

I said/

It’s  a body afloat, & its solid thoughts  float too, y’know/

& My Lofty thoughts  not  caught  oughta ride

On all tides too  High and low

.

.

.

.

.                                                                        (from way back)

Muscles Quip

June 26, 2017

I confess

My prowess is

To wait & to watch &

To wit  if fate slips me a quip

Take a sip & reassess then readdress

The matter  no later than  now

 

A W A Y

May 16, 2017

Sudek

photo credit: Josef Sudek (“the poet of Prague”)

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

They some time may say/ Time  dwindles  away/

I  say   swindles.

 

-gray r. melvin (“the poet of vague”)

L I M E

May 8, 2017

I’m  ripe  with  dereliction

My repast  still  strewn out before me

I’ll lap seeds from fruit eden fronts me

Though I’ll stick slow to my sloth….

To my depiction