Friday, September 27, 2013

pocket Watch

I've put time in my pocket Watch . me stop It's topped . with a locket of what's been lost . (too Lost) to what it costs The days . aren't numbered They aren't but they are Counted . not for what's remembered Not . for what's amounted into them . those knotty little problems They are . counted for what's not . and never was apart from them

Wednesday, September 25, 2013


The item is time This time . I color it the colors . I see When I close my eyes . I don't see faces Faced with time . I see a space . where items hide

Monday, September 23, 2013


I can't escape the magical . thinking It's hard . wired , thinking  there's more . happening When it's happenstance . happening Again , I read the chances . differently I connect dots to lines , lines to curves  . make pretty words into handsome . scripts Those scripts are littered with hero's . parts Armed with ascending arcs , they'll bow , drag and drop . me Plop me down at the gold and rubied feet . of difference I'm in different

Saturday, September 21, 2013

love is a many

Love is a many (Spend or bring or linger lovingly back with it wherever it waits) Any love (if it is a love that waits) it reaches, stretches it to a many more (for one or many, any who are meant for it) For love thus manied can't be happy (and its meaning isn't hard to find) until it finds more manies to meaningfully multiply

Thursday, September 19, 2013


I'm suggestibly yours (I'll see myself) gray or green or blue (I'll see you) near and dear or far if (Tell me) you love me or hate me and can't do this (with or without me) It will still be (us until you tell me) It isn't.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

dead sparrows

A dead sparrow might be . worth a ha-penny or not . so much, Alive and pulling . darting eyes out from feathered treetops . to a stoppered sky, It's unaccountably more precious . than the counted hairs on us both . tethered here or there, She's beyond that and whichever . more to me as I am, As helpless to help her . escape it

Tuesday, September 17, 2013


You can't tell . the messengers, They come . with many faces, They come . in many guises, They'll come . disguised as a message. beetle sleek and midnight quiet, They'll sneak . up on you . but they won't tell you . any messages, They don't carry . any message, They wear . mirrored moonbeams . shells softened by age, They'll show you . the message inside you, You've carried that message's morning blue . close but it's meant for another

Saturday, September 07, 2013


It lets go its tiptoes . and this reality's heels . peal with multi-textured echoes . and the thud of much . delayed rhymes, The newsprint for an instant . reminds the previous day of a stray . bit of conversation, It had when . a leggy bug leaped from the screen to run . underfoot, I've been told too many . times how they multiply, These coincidental rumblings . whenever you've stumbled . onto a path to take you . home, I still haven't . recognized where it is . I'm going, With the television on . and all those sounds bouncing in . from the window, It gets harder to find . certain steps signaled through the noise, I've found none . of it's noise.

Friday, September 06, 2013


We live in (the best of all) possible worlds . we do . it is, Filled with crowned crocodile kings . and frowning (plastic-wrapped) archangels, It plants (this world) . tender seedlings in our younger (less) fragile minds . that (suddenly later) we find . fat with blooms . and weighted with the very oblong fruits we'd be(en) longing, We eat . like hungry crocodiles . feasting on our chance (discoveries)

Thursday, September 05, 2013

karmic circles

I did(n't) wake up a roach . or mosquito . or the skittering waterbug I could(n't) bring myself . to approach, Last night . to dispatch it to its next life . I did(n't) wake up (dis)patched to a life (un)changed, I live . many lives in this one, I've had . many selves (re)built from scratch, Growing in this . knowing ever(y) . self is its own buggy dream.

Sunday, September 01, 2013

swan seeing

Bush and tree and vine have conspired . to inspire me with a vision of, A swan . its great green neck gracefully bends upward . to the sky, Have I told it (?) how I have (!) the older I've gotten . formed more . hidden attachments to places, Our secret connections lie . and wait for my passing