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



January 26, 2013

One wearisome man wouldn’t talk

He’d then tell me so, in oh, a half dozen words

He’d, for emphasis, he’d do this

He’d tell me  he wouldn’t, again

Six  words  twice

Would for him & me  suffice

Six  words  twice

It would suffice for me


one first verse

December 28, 2012

She hardly manhandles me at all.

While, a fraction, I’m afraid I am fragile.

All, papermache voodoo doll.


They’ll get in the way, the words.

While I set to say  what it’s worth.


We’re past judgement, past & inside gates of heaven.

We agree; it’s seen as greener grass.

We announce; amorous answers, & resolve, at last.








October 16, 2012

All along the long boulevard,

This. & the next,  intersections,

All the lights  go fall to fire yellow.

I’m warned  on the timing  of untangling  my jam

The tools  we use

When we talk our stuff

When we talk our take

Our words  seldom  press over

Like a sewing pattern on raw cloth

Neatly  and precisely

On our copy


Dispel  what they felt

On the jury stand

“In yr own words

Describe  exactly  what did  happen”


(So, it’s only)

Hard to  conceive



Of  a  rapturous  nature  of   love

In apt words she’ll believe

Firmly MisconsTrue

May 3, 2011

They said

In a crossword puzzle

In a paper someone read

When “languor” was the clue

“Ennui” was the answer.


Imagine “ennui”

As the answer.


I must  ask  for an answer

For ennui.


&  I never used “languor”

In such a mean fashion,

&  I don’t intend to.

Puzzles or not.

we talk

June 4, 2010


In a world when women and men

Are children w/games,

Playing hard  truth seeking

And harder  at hiding,

In a world where words barely matter,

Rarely more than chatter,

Her talk is straightforward tender

As after rain haiku.


Gee  no   gentle  rain.

Our muffled kisspers serve as

Counterpoint to gods’…


Lightning up this sacred joint



May 1, 2009

I was looking through a big black garbage bag from the back room loaded with writing from way back, (for something “revolutionary” from my spirited youth, to be honest) and thought that before throwing a notebook away I’d take something to keep and show here (right from the inside cover, something I used to write on bathroom walls across the country) maybe not Reaching Out revolution but inner… getting what’s mine.

” I was so much older then…”



“Inner space is the place to go

Close yr eyes and flow in that flow

You’ll get wise to what you already know”