Small Game Hunting At the Cottage On Lake Huron

i’m perfectly aware that those sticky mouse traps are cruel.  but i figure the captured mice die alone.  me?  i decided the sticky side of some vinyl strips i recently used on the floor would be more humane and maybe i could find a humane way to dispose of them far enough from the cottage they wouldn’t return.   here’s what happened … so far … 

So … last night i got up to pee around three a.m.

(i don’t turn on the light so sitting to pee increases my chances of hitting the water unless i sit and the seat is down which can be painful.)

while waiting, i glanced to the left just as a tiny mouse scurried past the door opening. i jumped up and went after the sucker with all the sticky tiles i could find. then, while wiping up the dribbled pee between the toilet and the door i saw either the same little ‘mickey’ or another one, i’m not sure.

i picked up a sticky tile and threw it at the little bastard. it happened to be next to a quart can of paint. when the tile hit the paint can it formed a little tee pee under which, was the little guy.

lucky little bastard, i thought …  BUT, part of the sticky vinyl touched its tail. momentarily delayed, its little feet running in place, it managed to escape the sticky grip disappearing between the washer and dryer.

i used the sticky side of the vinyl to fish for the mother, waving it under the washer and dryer but … no stick.

i said to the little invader … ‘don’t worry you bastard, you’re an uninvited guest and your ass is grass.”

i stripped a couple vinyl tiles, dropped on some trail mix making sure there were a couple of m and m’s on the strip along with some choice pecans and a couple p nuts and laid it across the entrance to the laundry room calling it out for a little snack.

before retiring i used another vinyl strip … with some nice crunchies on it … along the baseboard behind the couch since mice like to hug the walls and the couch was a good place to hide in wait.

i put another strip on the floor between the end of the breakfast bar and the front wall thinking if there was another one, it might want to check to see if there were any crumbs laying around in the kitchen.

i didn’t know if mice can climb that well so, i covered the dirty dishes in the sink with the glass cutting board thinking … ha ha … i’ll get you you little vermin bubonic plague carrier!  (this part if fictionalized i would never leave dirty dishes in the sink.  it sounded entertaining so i wrote it.)

this morning i went on a small game hunt first checking the strip behind the couch. i found traces of hair stuck to the vinyl strip by the couch. could it have fallen on its side?

while feeling some concern that it was able to escape i laughed … maybe i’ll recognize the little bastard by missing patches of hair on its hind quarters!

i look the strip outside in the daylight to look as closely as i could, for any tiny little mousey toe prints. there were none. hmmm .. i wondered, how could that be?

but then i realized mice are smart … maybe it tried to roll over the strip???? then i realized, that would be kind of a dumb thing for a mouse to do.

i put the thought out of my mind, retiring to the laundry room since, while lying in bed i came to the conclusion that the fucker(s)(i wasn’t sure if mice bonded with mates like ducks do) probably got into the house through some cracks or holes behind the washer, dryer, hot water heater or furnace.

anxious to blunt any further incursions, i searched for steel wool after discovering an actual hole about 3/4 of an inch in diameter that i’d never seen before beneath the dryer.

i sounded like Simon Lagree stuffing the hole with steel wool. then, i discovered a large enough crack for them to slither through since i’m aware that mice have the ability to somehow morph snakelike so to get through tiny crevaces.

i stopped my evil chuckling as anger and determination took its place with a growling sound deep within my throat.

i stripped another strip of tile laying it against the smaller crack along where the wall joins the floor.

“let’m scurry down that highway to hell!” i thought.

then i realized that maybe the dryer vent could be one of their secret passages so i moved the dryer so that it lined up perfectly with the vent hole leading outside, turned on the dryer, went outside to check the wind velocity.

feeling a warm strong wind i decided that the two were lined up pretty good. i promised myself i’d duck tape the connection later.

in order to get the dryer lined up perfectly, the space between the dryer and the hot water heater had widened revealing pipes and the gas line i hadn’t noticed before. so, i slid in some vinyl strips over the tiles that the hot water heater sits on.

i got ambitious and stuck down tiles i precision cut, to cover those ugly tiles.

i had a hell of a time cutting the little triangles i needed to fit in since, little triangular spaces are always present when tiling around a round surface.

finally, thinking while snipping the little triangles, i devised a plan for trapping the little bastards.

the problem had always been … where to put the strips?? i realized that, the sticky sided vinyl strips should be placed across the entrance to any open area like, the kitchen, bathroom, laundry room AND surrounding the washer and dryer which … i will put in place tonight.

while submerged between the hot water heater and the wall i discovered two empty packets of ‘de-con’ mouse poison with little holes through which some mouse in the distant past had eaten through to get to the deadly substance. i imagined the stomach ache they must have experinced before dying.

i felt that Simon Lagree laugh involuntarily rise from my throat once again.

was i becoming psychotic, i thought … without thought or conscience about taking a life? AND what would i do if upon waking in the morning one of the little Mickeys was stuck to the vinyl strip struggling to get loose before my very eyes?

if that happened i was hoping our eyes didn’t meet since, i’d see the fear of death in the bastard’s eyes and probably want to make a pet out of it.

then i remembered having blood poisoning from a mouse bite when i was a kid trying to catch a mouse to make into a pet and decided to squash the son of a bitch with my boot heel! NOT REALLY!

i was hoping all my efforts would be preventative in nature.  i didn’t want to face that possibility since catching vermin with a sticky strip of tile is cruel to begin with but … i don’t want the bastards running around the cottage with their little droppings everywhere.  i kept thinking of the plague which was the perfect rationalization for sticky vinyl removal of mice as long as the end result is as humane as possible.

so i thought, maybe i could take it across the street and shake it off the vinyl tile which would serve a double purpose.  maybe the shaking would addle its brain enough so that it wouldn’t rememer where the cottage was and return when …. once again, the simon lagree in me rose to the surface and i pictured myself cutting its little feet off with my toe nail clippers … ewwww … too nasty and cruel to even think about. and, i’m not that kind of person but i guess everyone has a ‘shadow self’ … mine just happens to be the personage of simon lagree.

then, with a chuckle i thought, maybe i’ll take it into town where i’d stick it to the railroad tracks since recently, i’ve been hearing the train passing by each night. hahaha, i thought. this would be poetic justice wouldn’t it?

so this is how i spent my morning … setting traps for small game …

i didn’t have one of those hats you see big game hunters wearing in the Tarzan movies so i wore my Nike hat as a gag. hahaha …

then, i washed my hands really good … feeling sure that, if i didn’t i’d for sure get a bad case of the bubonic plague or at least a bad case of thrush.

that’s about it. there’s been a cold rain still going from last night. the kinder side of me keeps thinking … maybe they just came in to get warm.

i just noticed some bumps on my neck. those fucking spiders are at it again. i slapped on some cortiozone cream and started searching in the corners for those little egg sacks.

it hasn’t been a bad day. luckily it’s still raining so, i didn’t have anything better to do than hunt mice and spiders.

hopefully the rain will stop and i’ll decide i’ve done enough and abandon the hunt. or not!  maybe my obsessive tendencies will rise to the surface, i’ll lose control and be totally obsessed!

But i would like to get some work done outside … i’ll keep you posted … .

Stolen Serenity

I told you yesterday
that spring had sprung
and i knew because

i saw a fly and a bull ant
on the floor by the fireplace
and a tickling on my arm as i wrote this piece

not fifteen minutes ago
a tiny spider had invaded my space!

There are gnats and mosquitos
and other tiny things
i can’t imagine

sharing air that a week ago
floated crystals of lace like wings
each a drifting masterpiece

floating down or streaming sidewise
with crystal clarity;

between the flakes
air that was mine to breathe
while witnessing the beauty

of each and every living thing
stripped bare of all distractions that

Now …

I share with all the little things
that come alive each spring.

My life more complicated now
no longer distraction free

avoiding lines of intersection
between their search for

whatever it is they’re searching for
inside air i’ve been breathing


i’ve shared with no one.

The soil fecund now
i do not use that word lightly

stored snow or frost grown permanent
five or six ‘moon go ’rounds’ ago

where all these beings lived within
their clear winter amber

quick frozen in gathered humus
or crystalline within the muck,

the eggs of their existence
captured when sun’s light slowed

to dim orange
when trees released

their bed covers
to darker still intensity

captured by cold stillness
within their sleeping spaces

during gestation’s time
to lie in wait, for

warmer sun’s returns
to free the life within

those amber spaces.

Not sleeping
having never been alive (as such)

waiting to emerge
from broken water

Released by whiter light!

These creatures that

surround me now!

within my sight!

that feed upon my light!

that touch my flesh!

that share with me my breath!

my choice bereft!

the world no longer stripped bare
of all confusion!

black and white and
clean and fresh!


That Old Clock and the Old Lady and the Old Clock

That Old Clock and the Old Lady and the Old Clock

The frame had a small dent,
the number four rested against six

after that old clock
on the kitchen wall

crashed onto the
marble counter top

because I opened
the cabinet door

too forcefully …

That old clock still ticked
so I rehung it

until I could find
a replacement

when a voice said,
‘’Get rid of it!’’ …

That beautiful old clock
is now a piece of detritus

keeping perfect time
at the bottom of

one of those large, green
Waste Management bins …

Like an old lady confined
to a nursing home,

its time had come
and then …

it’s time was
wasted …




i’m torn
in many

wonder ways
captive held.

Scalding seas
narrow channels
surfeit ever
changing seasons
finding mark/steady

back against
chest …
contact surface
shot to shit
with sweet
nostalgia ….

one single look of
‘wonder why’
exchanged …

or was it

sad … ?


spark !!!
breath alive ?



grains of sand

fresh water

secrets wash ashore;

light, new !

anon …

Light changes sight …!

Light changing site … !

no longer held

captive … takes

flight …

When Love No Longer Is the Object of Your Affection


I’ve been to the monument
and the inland sea ..

the land that time forgot.

where I walked between
the rising sun

and the trees of blackest night
with diesel’s mournful wail

beneath star filled nights
the midnight sun reflected

the moon and stars
along the rails of time

the trails of tears I walk

reflecting …

tears of lace
and wicked armor

bountiful treasures
wrung from innocent lives

endless tales of sacrifice and grief
told with hopeless glory

Tales of sweet relief
no longer the object of affection

abandoned buildings
interiors scorched, walls
rooms, spaces, hearts and diamonds
mirrored ceilings left hanging,
the scars of pain from inner sight
reflecting … wandering through
a world of virtual reality

love no longer the object of affection
Even the crazies can get crazier …

The Humor of Orthopedia

The Humor of Orthopedia

A little while back I had a one o’clock appointment with my orthopedic person to have my head …er .. knee examined.  (I’m not a bone head fer cryin’ out loud! I have an orthopedic neurologist for that!)  .

An older guy, probably my age was waiting with a dog on his lap.  To his left and right were a couple of other people one of which I assumed was his wife.

They seemed friendly enough. Passing by I said hi and they smiled.

While standing in front of the sliding glass window looking at the clip board  I thought I heard someone say, ‘’It doesn’t look like he’s limping.’’

Naturally i thought the comment pertained to me. I smiled, knowing that my reply might make them laugh.

“I’m faking it!’’  I said while turning around with a smile on my face.

All four of them stared at me  with blank looks on their faces.

“Whoops,”  i thought, “Another one of those out of body experiences where not one person knows what the fuck I’m talking about,”

I knew had to do or say something but I had momentarily dropped into an adolescent mode of thinking; so I was momentarily flummoxed.

I quickly changed gears and when I did a whole new perspective emerged and I began thinking the situation was ridiculously funny.

I rationalized my ridiculously self centered behavior thinking, “Wull,  at least st they stopped their idle chatter for a moment didn’t they?”

“Jeeze,”  i said,  half cracking up; i was getting giddier by the moment thinking about how ridiculous the situation was, “I thought you were talking about me.” I touched my right knee and gave it a little rub.

The guy holding the dog looks at me with a completely blank look on his face and says, ‘’We were talking about the dog,”  which made the situation even more ridiculous therefore, more ridiculously funny.  I had to control myself after that …

continued …

Nick Makes A Funny Joke For Jessica


Nick and Jessica email each other.

Jessica’s email address is

Nick’s email address is

Nick types in

Nick is chuckling because he thinks jessica”s going to think the joke he’s about to send her … is really funny …  Nick doesn’t expect Jessica to have a laugh orgasm which is a common occurrence between nick and jessica when think something is really funny.  the joke isn’t orgasmic but nick thinks she’ll think it’s cute and funny.  she loves nick’s sense of humor because most of it is really dumb.  which …, Jessica is the queen of sarcasm.  so, you put two and two together.

well any way Nick types in Jessica’s name sends her a quick email. “I’m sending you a good joke i made up Jessica.  I want to know if you think it’s funny.  ok?

send ……………………………………………..

Jessica writes back immediately.

“Send it on baby!  I can’t wait I hope it’s what i’ve been waiting for all day!”

Nick smiles while typing his joke:

hey jess?  do you know the difference between yaaaaaaaa ! … and ayyyyyyyy !  I assume you don’t Jessica otherwise i’d know you knew.  the differenc is ….

yaaaa … is a person cheering while facing you.  ayyyyyyy … a person cheering FACING AWAY FROM YOU!

It’s a yucker isn’t it jessica?  admit it …


jessica writes back …

i love it Nick … kind makes you want to go to two football games on opposite ends of town doesn’t it?

Nick lays his head on the counter top where he’s typing … and can’t stop laughing …

Nick thinks jessica is the funniest person in the whole world  …. hahaha …..

The Day the Month the Hour the Minute the Second the Time That I Was Born: To Victo Dolora

That summer hot and sultry
mid month mid year mid way past midnight
bright lights shining blinding
hands grasping fingers smashing
through the air
i did not really care
it was not my problem

i was their’s for the taking …

i heard the pain that wasn’t mine
explode into my space,
the air, the rush of light that came before the crack of dawn
exposed the ship that i’d been riding on
between the worlds where i once lived
when i was born …

with great surprise i threw away my aqua lungs,
I sucked in air while water flooded,
breathing synapses firing new born pistons,
283 horses blowing streams of light
in all directions!!

… so this is what it’s like to live in the land of milk and honey … !!!

Came time to leave for home
i looked into the sky i’d never seen,
acorns falling through the air,
cool harmonies on the breeze singing memories
from where it all began
wrapped around light
that fueled the seeds of future’s flight;

while tightly woven earthly patterns
leading everywhere in sight
gave great brilliance
and such

Delight .. !!

Each night I see the world inside my dreams

wrapped inside the morning dew;

Each morning my life begins anew,
never sure of all that i have seen
until i return

and do it all again and again and again and again and again and again … until i think …

i am …..

Trump Card Takes the Pot


Trump Card Takes the Pot

Trump card plays his hand
knowing how the game will end

He’s a big game hunter now
he has his own guns !

the biggest guns in all the lands!

the power of Life and Death held
firmly in his hands …


Trump card plays his hand …


Friendly nations now
the fraternity of sociopaths

they share their common secrets
they are of one mind …

They have it all inside …

the stage is set for

Act 2 …

of this tragic story
waiting to unfold …


who it’ll be a tragedy for
no one really knows …

maybe we’ll ALL be losers …


I’ve been waiting for some time now
for the spark to set the fire ..

the flame that starts the
slow burn …

and i see it just got started!  

(I should have known it would spark to life in California!)

The stage is set …


Trump card played his hand …


Act II is set to play … !


There’s open warfare in the streets

a purposeful venture
an investment in time
the dividends paid by the investment of his
rhetoric … It’s time to reap

the payoff …


Trump card played his hand …


Chaotic forces needed/on demand


Trump card takes his stand …


Opposing forces created/hatred gives incendiary reason/

If there’s tinder when a
fire starts

the flames get out of
hand …

It could turn into a blaze … !


Some people say
that’s ok … it’s just
Trump card learning
to play ….

Act 3 … Siloquoy

“Doncha wonder what’s the plan
where’s it all going from here?

willl it have a happy end ?
will we all be rich and fat … or even fatter!

Strangely enough it’s headed nowhere … !


A meandering pack of beasts with one accord
roaming earth

desire with equal distribution
shared/single destination

the double helix never so grand
the power hungry people
from selected lands … joined in
tribal majesty
hungry for the feast


Trump card plays his hand …


It’s all about power
once the thrill of money dies

it doesn’t really matter
it’s the next step as you rise  ..

another conquered feast
to feed the hungry beasts

another draght to slake the power hungry

thirst …

It flows
It grows
It waits

and when time is right

it will flash point … !

We’ll live in an orderly world
very little crime to speak of

the prayers of little children
will echo through the halls ..


Inside tiny cubicles
within the tiny walls

will sit the hungry masses/innocent victims of the law/creating space for peace to grow/gentrification/repartiation of the masses …


Prisoners inside cubicles walls

waiting for the day they know
will never come …

While the rest of us will
fein happiness, freedom and joy

waiting for

the other shoe to

drop …..


Trump card plays his cards

and takes the

pot …

Space Devoid of Time


wind blows memories through my mind\
time recedes, I’m moving through
space devoid of time … in different
lands …

i’m in another place
drawn in as a sketch or

a figure etched in fog or
mist watching … seeing … seeing

the light of time past
stored inside …

Light from the past taken
still alive in that bubble of time

seeing clearly for nano seconds
but lived in once again!

The storied light of the past
alive within us all ..

through space
devoid of
time …

next to the timeless past
‘real life’
is a parallel universe …

a linear river of time,

boxed reality

separated from the past
by an impermeable membrane

impossible to break through
except during sleep

when past light bleeds into
dreams like wispy smoke and
we see by
the light of two

suns …

Grand Canyon Phil

Grand Canyon Phil

 Lynn started having severe headaches a year and a half after marrying Phil who considered himself a libertarian pledged to be a pain in the ass to every person he met.

One summer they were on vacation at the Grand Canyon riding donkeys down a trail along the canyon wall around 200 feet above the Rio Grande.

The trail widened just as Phil called the guy in front of him a fucking jack ass.

Lynn pulled up next to Phil.

‘’The nerve of him,’’ she thought to herself. ‘’I’ve about had it with this asshole.’’

The word ‘’asshole’’ escaped from her lips.

When Phil looked at Lynn everyone in the group looked at Phil.  Lynn dug her fingernails around the top of Phil’s shoulder.

The last thing Phil saw before a tumbling blend of spectacular Grand Canyon colors enhanced by an immense orange setting sun was, Lynn’s smiling face mouthing the words, ‘’Good by asshole.’’

When they returned topside the entire group reaffirmed Lynn’s version of the story.  Phil had leaned over too far while yelling “fuck off’’ to the group leader and had fallen over the edge of the gorge.

That night Lynn drove eastward toward Las Vegas.

Phil’s body was never found.

Setting Free the Birds

Setting Free the Birds


I was the smoking monitor for ten patients, in the screened porch one day.

I lit their cigarettes. They smoked and we talked.

Next to me sat gracious, sweet southern born Clara, her ankles swollen twice their size, blue, onion thin skin, ripped and torn, wrapped in gauze.

Deserted by her children,  she lives in a movable lounge chair forever her prison, crying, ‘’Help, help,’’ all night, every night.

Suddenly two female cardinals streaked past attaching themselves to the screen in front of us, their tails fanned, the sun highlighting beautiful shades of brown with red streaks.

Desperate to escape they skittered from panel to panel.

I herded them toward the opening saying,  ‘No, go that way!” or  ‘’No, go back!”

First one found freedom, curved upward and disappeared.

Confused, the other flew past the opening moving further away from freedom.

I moved past and with hands raised shouted, “It’s your turn now GO!”

She dropped from the screen, scooped low and was absorbed by the pale blue sky.

Turning toward Clara I watched tears of despair spill over onto her cheeks.

When our eyes met, I knew exactly how she felt.

Where There Were Snakes

Where There Were Snakes .. 250 Words

When I was a boy, we caught garden snakes in a field next to a place called the Tub Factory over by the railtracks.  We trapped the snakes by stepping on their tails. We’d pinch them behind their heads, pick them up, look at their flickering tongues and peer into their angry, cold eyes.

Their teeth were little bumps.  You didn’t bleed when bitten, but they wouldn’t let go.  We’d collect six or eight of them in coffee cans, all writhing at the bottom.  I took a can home to my mom once.  She wouldn’t let me keep them as pets.

The field of snakes was behind the rambling old Eden house with its clapboard exterior that time had painted weathered and grey where seven brothers and sisters lived.

Their father Mit, a full blooded American Indian was a mean, hard drinking railroad man cruel to people even outside his family.

His oldest son Don was a bad apple who combed his greasy black hair into a pompadour, wore cuffed jeans, points, white t-shirts with cigarettes rolled into his sleeve.  His half smile and white teeth belied angry, cold snake eyes that said he could kill you if he wanted.  People said he even scared his father.

Legend was he tied cats’ tails together, threw them over clothes lines and set them on fire.

Later in life he changed his ways, married a nice girl and became a Baptist minister.


Driving out endless possibilities/
skating over ice too thin/

holes chopped through frozen reality/
broken dreams .. in the hospital/
waiting for repair
Unknown encounters passing by/
sparks of visions wondering why/
lives joined in sequence/
the river meandering by/
sweet and terrible waters …
Birth spring summer fall reliving/
gifts supreme/
singularity seen with double meaning/
sun’s heavenly face moving/
fresh air beyond belief/
worlds asunder/
rising swells /moving sands/deadheads floating by …


captured by wandering sea …

renewing  itself

endlessly …

More Lake Magic: Morphing Sparrows

I sat and watched in peaceful trance
water cascade toward me,
it’s white caps reaching for the shore
where purest water and land meet
in perfect balance.

A half mile off shore men fished in the trough between shallow water colored tan and
deep water blue that extended to the horizon
then further where deepest knowledge lies hidden beyond the
fog that blurs the boundary line
of the event horizon  …

… when the world and everything in it
came alive!

an immense delta shaped cloud miles across
morphed into a giant sparrow
its tail feathers tendril-like
emerging from a roiling line of black
trailing far behind
each twisting through air
in its own unique way …
parts of the whole drifting away,
thin strands of cloud DNA
seeking like minded life forms
reforming into new more powerful forces or
receding into the mist

i listened for words grown silent;  empty space greater than
the sound of crashing waves,
or the passing wind that filled my ears … when shades of gray

surrounded me;

the sandy bottom of the great lake became a subtle shade of gray;
the white caps a more subtle shade … with motion …
the shoreline grass multi faceted shades,
the sky in slow diminishing muted shades of gray
slowly turning toward
the blue black of night

I was living in the gray zone before nighttime on the
boundary line between time when
dreams from beyond the horizon are born
within the light of darkest night

A Day In the Life III

continued  …  So i grabbed the shop vac went into the bathroom and and sucked it up …

While I was sucking I noticed

how lousy the baseboards looked
so I decided I’d tape them off
and paint them …

BUT NOT TODAY .. !  I had enough on my platter!  (and the list was growing … )

I just wanted to make note of it
AND  … that I needed high gloss paint

So i got smart …

I went to where my tablet was,
but on the way i saw the computer
and remembered the pictures
I wanted to download so …

I figured I’d probably remember the paint job AND
that i needed high gloss paint ….

So, I sat down at the computer,
started looking around for
the pictures when I noticed
there was a ”Events” file which,

… once i figured out what it was …

I realized it would make
accessing pictures so much easier …

So I set up a new “Events” file for
”moonlight photos” because along
the way, I noticed that i had taken
some pretty cool moon shots

(they were grainy, but I thought the graininess added to their character.)

I centered a couple of those moon shots
and used the color enhancer … (which made the clouds pop)

then i found some pictures i took one night,
of water sprinkling down from
the shower head with the outside light
shining from behind,

making the drops
look like globules of gold
falling through the air …

I cropped a lot of dark space around them

THEN, I saw some of my
”everyday things” pictures which … (what the heck, as long as I was there) I
clicked on and dragged into that file …

THEN I noticed I another moonlight file!
so put them all together …

I continued searching for my
“Everyday Things” pictures
when I found
a whole shit load of barn shots that I
put into the barn file …

Then i said … FUCK … !

i’ve got to take a shower and get the fuck out of here!

continued .,… 

A Day In the Life



… so i put them into the dryer then I started to move the furniture back to where I wanted it.  When I finished I remembered I was going to take a shower so I went in and took all the tools out of the tub,  that I had brought in earlier.

I grabbed my tools put them where they needed to be then  … Oh!  There’s that sandwich! I hadn’t eaten it all.  So I continued eating the sandwich while walking around looking for my camera (so i could take a before and after picture of the tub) when I remembered taking some cool pictures a couple of days ago … I decided to take a look a them … so i sat down, logged in,  started to peruse when i looked over and saw two globs of grape jelly on the floor … shit!

after considering my options i grabbed an old wash cloth, wet it down in the bathroom and wiped up the jelly … ummm i wonder if i should throw the washcloth in the laundry basket … hell yes, so i threw it into the laundry basket then,  i remembered there was dirt in the tub from my tools.

So while I was in the laundry room I grabbed the shop vac went into the bathroom and and sucked it up …  CONTINUED ….. WHILE SUCKING  I NOTICED HOW LOUSY THE BASEBOARDS … A Day In the Life ………

I Know … It Knows … I Love … It So …


I told Little Monster Girl
i said …

i’m gonna be flyin’ the big bird to the northern climes,
hitting’ the ‘motor city’ around eight
to pick up the Explorer

three hours later i’ll be on the sunrise side in
big pine country
watchin’ the sun rise up over big lake water
glaciers child pure and fresh
five feet above the eastern plane
on the shoreline
watching big ORB rise up orangery red shinin’ low

beneath grey streaks of sliver
clouds …throwing light
right straight across the
broad water plain from the event horizon
just before brilliant
orange streaks
shimmer across water
white light beads
embedded at speeds of light and time
streaked deep
blue black seething water
in light chop
breaking over the top
throwing its mystery
straight at me
funnels of light
through my face
exploding on my eyes

focused on my sight

TO my ME it
wants ME to see it
wants ME to feel it
wants it FOR me,
wants to give it TO me

i know … it knows
i love … it so … it so
loves me so we know
And so ..
it goes on eternally …

i’m part of it

standing at the shoreline
with a cup of coffee with real cream
looking down on
shimmering light
at my feet

i feel sun’s warmth
soft white shimmers
blow against my face …

don’t they call that the solar
wind … ?

A Day In the Life

 A Day In the Life

Night words floated out of reach ‘till almost
dawn …

Then, morning, noon and night passed by,
my wings still clipped;

(far too many extraneous thoughts
lurking in my peripheral vision

kept me from taking
flight …)

I knew i’d get
my inspiration back

i just knew it … !

Next morning I returned to work confident/not expecting the pain of
thought rejection

I worked on what little I’d started the
night before but

All I did was massacre the words …

Take life out of the thoughts …

Resigned to being a dullard I thought,

“Why not do something useful in the real world
for a change?”

What resulted is the story of a day in my ‘real world’
that day I decided to do something ‘useful’.

I looked around for something to do then  …

Part I

“Ahaa!,” I thought, “I’ll work on the tub!”

I began visualizing my moves; writing problems down, making a materials list. It felt good that to be taking the time to plan the job since I thought of problems that wouldn’t have occurred to me if I’d have jumped in there head first!

As I was leaving the bathroom, I realized I hadn’t eaten.

That’s when I got sick to my stomach.

So I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on toast …  threw down my meds, drank a cup of coffee, while bouncing around listening to Kincade or Underworld, wondering what i was going to do next, when I happened to pass by the laundry room where I saw a pair of jeans that needed to be thrown into the dryer …

continued …

The Eternal Mystery: 10/01/15

The Eternal Mystery: 10/01/15

Great Lake pounds the shoreline with fury.
More power than i’ve witnessed before.

Extraordinary the only word
to describe it.

The rushing sound of
an infinite number of wavelets

one continual line of white caps
breaking parallel to the shore ,
a mile in each direction

Mirrored offshore

a broken surge
crackles with fluid electricity
along the curvature of the
earth …

Waves reach their peak
6 – 7 – 8 feet tall
begin their descent,
fingers reaching
downward into
the swale below,
drawn up and over
by their own weight

wide and round and fat
they break along their curvature
wrapped around air
trapped inside the curl
streaks of gray and white and
filligries of sandy green

streaks of color
rolling forward downward
white form coursing the front
passion spent
collapsed onto the sand

flowing through
the sieve of past conversions
the clock of time
along the hour glass shoreline

each grain a tiny piece
of what was once a mighty
seed … the earths crust at

the time of the


There Was His Face

There was his face …

A mixture of youthful mirth, his right eyebrow a calligraphy flare at the end of a sentence, his mouth twisted into a half smile, his head cocked to the side, mischeviousness written all over the place. A question mark at the end of his eyes that said, you don’t know what I’m thinking do you?

When he looked into her his eyes his face lost expression.

He saw the color and its dark circle corona and the black pool he fell  into.

She stared back . Her benign smile said, “What’s on your mind?”

Waiting …..

Tell me about your excellent day?

“I spoke softly and the vibrations went into people and made them feel good.”

Waiting …

“There were plenty of smiles and laughter. It felt like I was spreading something around. It seemed like people were flowers that hadn’t had water in a week. I gave them a drink of Miracle Grow and they perked up for a bit… took in a little more sunshine. It seems strange that I can pass all this positivity around but i can’t spread it to myself. Fear still lurks. Fear can pounce without warning. A crystal vase that can fall and shatter in a heart beat.”

I know his states of mind the way he thinks … his moods, both bright AND dark but I only see his light. Only HE knows and sees the dark.

Waiting …..

So you were fearful a lot of the time?

“Fear!!… that common concoction that mixes so well with just about any situation?”

You have nothing to fear. This I’ve never understood.

“My feelings? My thoughts are a river that carries a river boat. The boat is my physical self. It and I float along on the feelings that are beneath. They are the feelings I have at that moment …….. But, no matter what you think … you know it’s bigger … It’s the river and then … well you know. There’s so much more. The river is a constant force … a powerful force. But there are forces that control the river!

Waiting …

And, when you have a day like today what’s it like?

“The guys in the engine room had that engine running smooth. The fuel injectors were working perfectly. I was at the helm of the ship. I took it to different places and I was in complete control although, I only thought I was. The engine was still in control but the river controlled the engine …. still … everything ran smooth for a change. Even the boat thought it was in control but it wasn’t. But, it was so great! I steered into little coves and inlets. I explored little communities along this journey.”

“I can stop for a while, and even get out of myself. You know … get out of the boat … for a change.”

Waiting .,…. Thinking …..

“That’s when I can stand back … apart from ‘ME’ … I SEE the world …. not ‘ME’ … for what it is. That damn ”Me” … it’s always getting in the way of things … .”

“I can watch the river flow by and I understand it better. I see logs out there on swirly sub currents. Murky water, whirlpools for crying out loud! I don’t even want to go there!”

“I don’t know where the source of that fucking river is. I ask myself, what is the source of that raging river? A little stream like the mighty Mississippi? Or, does it bubble to the surface of the earth from some dark, black place within the planet? Maybe I was born in that black place and bubbled up with the black water … ?

Waiting … Smiling ….

“… Although, there are times most often when the river is clear and runs smooth and it’s a pleasure to coast along at a slow enough pace that the world looks beautiful and you have time to see it as a wonderful montage ….. .”

The Great Beginning

 The  Great Beginning


Hear words spoken softly

whispering kindly

seeking solitude

shelter from the storm.

See withering roses planted

the sky above paying tribute,

fresh water flowing

through breezes in the dark

to places unknown

on paths never taken.

The never ending search

for trail’s end.

The great


To The Writer: Consciousness Creates Reality: From the Writer ..

From the writer Consciousness Creates Reality … 


From those thoughts … 

to mine

sparked …. !

To The Writer

Separate’s disengage
from crowds of disparate
destruction … the lies
of truth
unfold …

reality creates consciousness
unseen …

of living
transposed ,,,

around …

burning without reason
unyielding … unwinding

the  winding road

toward completion


dust …


Does Anybody See?

 Can ANYONE read

 the writing on the wall?


Ronald Regan founder co/conspirator; Jerry Falwell,  leader of the Silent Majority.  Regan gets the support of millions of Christian voters in return for supporting Born Again Christians in government races nationwide.  The Christian Right begins its infiltration into positions of power.

Within the Senate and House of Representatives great numbers of Christian Right politicians/officials are now poised to seize power to save the country by bringing ‘Christian Ideals’ to the people.

Donald  Trump creates the schism through incendiary oratory.  Hatred is a powerful force driven by lies.

 Lies stoke hatred. Hatred Divides



Insatiable Appetites

Divide and Conquer/Bait and Switch

Divide to Conquer ..

Waiting For the End

Sheep of the Land

Well Fed Pastures

has no one read

Watership Down ?


Once again he was saddened by the thought that, “She never thinks i’m funny!“

Most of the things HE thought were funny, SHE thought were either stupid or sexually degenerate.

She hated the word ‘’shit’’ which he thought was the funniest word in the English language!

And she didn’t think sex was funny which he thought was even funnier than the word shit!

She used to say, “i don’t appreciate your barnyard humor.’’

He remembered the time she stormed out of the room after he said,  “I’d love to be able to fly like a bird but, I wouldn’t want to BE a bird because when they have sex it’s over after a couple of quick thrusts!”

She said something over her shoulder as she stormed out of the room. All he heard was, “Compared to you.” He didn’t catch the rest.

Strange as it seems, he chuckled at the craziness of the situation.

“IT’S OK she doesn’t get it most of the time!’’ he thought.  “Fer crying out loud you can’t connect on everything!”

Still, he hoped that occasionally she’d laugh at what he DID or SAID to BE funny instead of the unintentional things that happened which she thought were  hilarious!

Like the time he was carrying the groceries in from the car, tripped over that stupid exercise ball she never used, fell and broke his shoulder!

She laughed so hard she didn’t even hear his pleas to call 911!

(The next day she told him she laughed so hard she peed her pants!)

Through the haze of pain he thought, “Well, at least she’s laughing!”

But then she got pissed because the exercise ball hit a nail and went flat.

As she walked out of the room the last thing he heard was, ‘’Call 911 yourself you clumsy ass. It’s your own damn fault! “

He had to fish the phone out of his back pocket. (Which isn’t an easy task when you’re lying on the floor with a broken shoulder. But the battery was dead!)

A moment  later she came back into the kitchen.

She began picking up the groceries but she ignored him.

“But you’ve never used that thing!”,  he said. “It’s bleached out from lying outside in the sun for TWO YEARS! After the first year, I made a landscape ornament out of that damn thing!”

She stared hard at him saying, “Well, I WAS thinking of joining that zumba class starting next week!”

Then she got huffy again. “Why don’t you just put the damned groceries away  yourself?!”

She stormed out of the kitchen a second time.

Despite the pain he yelled, ‘’But zumba doesn’t USE exercise balls!’’

The last thing he heard before the door slammed was, ’’Good! I didn’t want to take that stupid class anyway!”

Later …

His right arm was useless and it was impossible to reach across the steering wheel to the shift knob and steer at the same time, so he had to drive the Mustang in first gear all the way to the hospital five miles away!

While it seemed strange to him at the time and despite the pain, he laughed all the way to the hospital.

Lucinda Singing

Lucinda Singing

(I know that’s Bonnie Rait sp.)


These women singers and their words!
I’m touched by their heartbreak.

Their emotions run deep and purple;
deeper than the bluesmen

who sound sad about lost love
but aggressive in contrast …

Their sincerity comes
from a deeper more personal space;

A darker spot within their hearts;
emotions akin to the loss of a child.

Deep sadness confined within
a shattered crystal vessel full of dull grey smoke.

Smoke that leaks through cracks of glass,
twists its way through the heart of the singer

into the heart of the

Their songs are heart wrenching and melancholy,
beautiful with passion and sadness;

tales of lost love taken,
once shared …

meant for other women
who understand the pain …

while men can only stare
through smoke filled glass and


Their music was a revelation to me.

A look into another world
of deepest pain.

My vision twice distorted though,

first by smoked filled crystal glass
then, through tears of
sorrow …

Songs of City Blue

Song of City Blue

We ate and smoked the evening air
we sang the songs we knew so well
with flames of heart’s desire

the songs we thought
would never end …
when life had just begun.

Round and ‘round the room of souls
we danced with youthful abandon …

Little did we know
we didn’t know …

even less,
than what we knew …

When time has all
but reached the end,
we’ll gather on our city streets
to sing those songs again

the ones we know so well …

of flaming hearts
and love’s desire
from all our midnights past

we’ll dance the night away
just like we did
when Life was new

and time had just
begun …

The Big Fugator From the Black Canal

They warned me about that alligator they’d seen in the canal out back. I scoffed at their advice.

“But I need to weed whack along the shoreline,” I said.

Later, when I turned around to whack weeds between the banana trees I felt a tug then, sharp pain.

Looking down I saw teeth clamped around my ankle.

The last thing I remember was water forced into my nostrils and a sense of hopelessness.

I woke from my nap on the hammock sputtering, thinking I was drowning! Then I realized I had poured an entire bottle of Fuji water onto my face most of it having drained into my nose.

Hacking violently, I looked down at the canal where I saw two giant marbles slightly smaller than tennis balls floating on the surface.

When a warty snout began moving up the bank I knew I had come face to face with an alligator! A big fugator!

I looked for a limb to throw at the big fucker when the hammock flipped. I was trapped! Wrapped up in canvas like an ear of corn!!

I swayed like a pendulum before coming to rest, my head 12 inches above ground, arms clenched against my body, the Fuji bottle pressed against my crotch, watching the Gator creep up the bank, feeling totally helpless.

Between howls of laughter I heard, “Would some cheese and crackers improve your standard of living?”

Her appearance startled the gator. Quick as a lick it slid into the water; white froth and small whirlpools the only evidence it existed.

She thought turtles made the froth.

Once again she warned me about the gator.

A half hour later, free from the hammock’s grip I ate two crackers with cheese and threw up.

Butter or Parkay/Or Is It Parkay Or Butter??


… when he doubled over she called him a
doofey fake vegetarian unemployed jack ass.

He smiled.  “What’s a jake ass,” he thought? 

Part II

Most nights after cleaning the kitchen he joined in the t.v. room even though he hated that western channel.

He usually curled up with a book by favorite author Louis L’amor.

One night she wanted popcorn.

He took great pride in his popcorn making skills but on that one particular night they had run out of margarine.

Why she didn’t like butter on her popcorn he didn’t know.

He loved buttered popcorn! Maybe that was the reason?

She insisted on having popcorn that night even though they had no margarine.

“The car’s got plenty of gas,” she said, “And I need some quiet time while you’re gone.’’

He drove eight miles to the Piggly Wiggly but it was closed for the annual inventory.  So he drove around the corner to Charley’s  Convenience Store but it must have burned down.  The walls were charred black and the roof was missing.

So there was no place he could get margarine.

“I’ll be damed if I’ll drive another ten miles to Plank City for a tub of Parkay,” he said out loud.

“She’ll just have to eat her goddamned popcorn with butter tonight,” he thought.

He wondered if she’d know the difference. But he knew better.

By the time he got back she had gone to bed.

Since the next day was Saturday he figured he’d leave early for his appointment at that quickly loan place next to the Piggly Wiggly.

He knew he’d have hell to pay in the morning if he didn’t pick up a pound of butter just in case … since she preferred butter on her toast.

I’ll Have London Broil and Feta Cheese With Extra Tomato On the Side

They had meat for dinner almost every night.

But for months he had been eating tomatoes and feta cheese each night even though he hated feta cheese!

He couldn’t stand the taste and it made him sick!

She insisted all along he become a vegetarian and she insisted he eat feta cheese even though he loved meat and potatoes.

“Honey,” she said, “As long as you bring home the bacon you can have whatever you want!”

Which, this was the problem!

He hadn’t worked for months and tomatoes with feta cheese is a LOT cheaper than two people eating London broil!

(Even though they had plenty of money!)

He just shook his head.

But, why feta cheese he wondered ??

(She said it had something to do with goats milk and the symbiotic relationship goats have with tomatoes???)

She gloated it over him.  The meat thing, I mean.

And the fact that he wasn’t working.

Naturally, he didn’t want to make waves so he ate the damned feta cheese. (After all he WAS unemployed) But he would NOT give in when she asked if he liked the feta cheese!

She always laughed, “I can tell by the look on your face it sickens you!!!”

One night he had to leave the table after eating a piece with green mold!

(He hated bleu cheese even more!)

She followed him to the bathroom chortling the whole way!

’’I know why you’re sick you jake ass!’’ she said. “It’s that cheese you liar! You hate it!’’

He told her he thought it was something he ate at the unemployment office.

She laughed again!

“Probably one of those meaty hot dogs you like so much you meat eating, in denial, vegetarian!” she yelled. A shit eating grin on her face.

She put her arms around him which, he though was kind of nice (for a change), but she faked one of those knee jabs to his crotch!

When doubled over she called him a doofey unemployed flack ass!

“You doofey eyed unemployed flack ass!” She yelled laughing.

He smiled.

What’s a ‘flack ass’, he wondered?

continued …

Ghost Trees Wailing In the Wind

A picture couldn’t  capture
the ferocity of constant
wind blowing at least forty m.p.h.

across the surface of the lake
straight from the north

white caps rushing
the water the trees
the sand and leaves …
everything combined
Shhsssshing relentlessly

my hoody inflated into
a reverse parachute
pushing my head and
body backward

dots of rain prickling
my face the occasional
snow flake spiraling through

forcing me to retreat
to calmer climes
along the road
so much
calmer now

than 5 minutes ago when i/first walked to the shoreline

I walked to 23 then back down the hill

hearing cracks and snaps
of dead firs breaking
like sticks

the bottom half
of each broken tree attached
to the ground pointing upward
topped by splinters looking like
beasts in snarling anger
released from prison allowed
to express their furiosity
at the plague of
beetles who had
caused their demise … long gone now …

off to greener
pastures …

their plaintive wails
and pent up frustration
their howls of pain
unheard …

ghost sounds
each tree could only hear

in their own after lives …

ghost trees wailing
at the wind

unheard ..

punctuated by


the initial sound
of ultimate

rot …

Strange Life Gone By

Strange Life Gone By

My watch said six o’clock. I looked at the banana grove, the 50 foot pine trees at the crest of the bank, turtle’s heads above the water line, houses across the canal darkening as the gray mist of dusk descended.

I looked at the full moon rising through trees across the canal.

 Memories drifted into my mind.  The storied light of past days.  Roads traveled that brought me to this place at this time; relaxing on a canal in Florida in back of a house with a pool watching the full moon; a portal through which I could always look through and see worlds where I once lived.

 I thought about my first major crossroad when seconds late for the most important event in my life, my world collapsed.

The journey that resulted took me to places I never imagined, inhabited by people who had a profound affect on me.

continued …

Nature’s Way


… yellow marble space/ ages past frozen time/galaxies beyond glass/sky reflecting sky/ rippling trees/ distorted splashing brightness/liquified light streaks ever moving outward …

phosphflousent air born spores /clinging green algae/tepid water/ flowing acid, alkaline seas/ liquid splendor/seminal fluids coating walls evergreen …a world of wonder …

ground lying flat/ pool pond Life/ changeling forms of fishes/ sloping stucco valleys/ water seeking paths of wonder/ plankton decomposing/water’s sprouts nourish living creatures/green life breathing/rain, lakes, tides/ wandering birds searching through veils of hidden mystery/ seeds of life/parallel spaces between worlds/seen through windows touching/ / each taking what it needs/ then moving on …

The Songs of Softest Memories

i sing the songs of softest
memories …
the songs of time gone by …

the words to stories known so well that
float behind my eyes …

the softest words i hear at night
from wordless breath

the light that lives
within …..

i turn the pages of the book
i see within my
mind ..

i listen to the
sighs …

the songs of softest memories
of lives and loves
gone by …

Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll or How the Fugs and the Monkees Changed the World

The 60s and 70s were such tumultuous times!

It started when the song “Masturbation Fantasy’’ by the Fugs and ‘Pleasant Valley Sunday” by the Monkees drove baby boomers into an insane frenzy of utter and complete madness intent as they were, on remaking the world to their own liking.

Following The Fugs lead soon everybody was fucking everybody!

Adding idiocy to mayhem, Timothy Leary was telling people to get high on Nyquil or Contact Cold Syrup while Carlos Castenada told everyone they could be in two places at the same time!

Their individual messages only fueled the fires of insanity described by the New York Times as, “An uprising of the deviant ‘mid-range I.Qers.”

Clusters of “long hairs” vomiting on street corners were seen brandishing psychedelic colored bottles of cold syrup held tightly in their clenched fists giving the finger or yelling ”Fuck you capitalist pig,” to men driving by wearing neck ties and fedora hats.

Women flaunted their breasts and wore crotchless jeans. A couple had sex on the Quad and no one even noticed!

After the Viet Nam War things changed. All of the draft dodgers were out of full time jobs. So, they decided to be part of the American dream.

Most of them became insurance agents or ‘Call Girls’ but a lot of them became Tupperware sales people, train conductors, Gal Fridays, car salesmen, psychiatric nursing technicians, convenience store clerks, short order cooks, corporate executives or they worked at GM or Ford.

Whenever their favorite ‘oldies’ station played “Pleasant Valley Sunday” they’d looked wistfully into the distance. The air, thick with charcoal smoke, they’d throw another burger on the bar-bee and tell stories about the good ‘ole days and their kids would just stay inside with their smart phones moving thumbs up and down not even giving a shit.




There’s a place where life
is never bare of
mice and madness,

Where the world will
come again flogging itself
with delight every step
of the way; made more evil
by men who besiege,
hold prisoners in bonds
of deepest despair;
their love warped
and cruel and rotten
with usury to the core;

Unstable men, mean
mother fuckers users abusers
confusers, bastard misers
thwarted useless pliers
of love with pain,

Scorn hurters, driven
to kill life’s most
precious gift.

Will the end ever
be in sight?


Innocent love will always die
by lies, life’s most
precious gift taken
and destroyed.

They’ll always be the same, no matter …
From summers lost
till spring when
you were me and I and we;

The times we ran together,
we drank our fill never knowing …

There are killers out there
the likes of which
you’ve never seen,

Who lie their likes and dislikes,
who spend their false revenue
so freely to fuel
their selfish lust
with platitdes of
loneliness and

The Spinning Wheel

The Spinning Wheel

 … or i might come up here
and find white and dazzling, diamonds,

chicken legs, easter eggs
on the inland waterway,

sparking gems off cleavage water,
trillions of carats for hugs

and why not?

Dazzling iridescent half life
ur-anal-ium lives within

the bones where
dry spirit resides,

where clothes fit right
and everything flows down hill

and grows big and horney inside …

I might go there … .


 But does it matter …
what’s right or wrong?

what the others think
in the quietude of

their midnight thoughts,
through wind against

the black starlight trees?
when breeze awakens …

when full nuclear moons topped
with heads full of sight

only knowing hind sight
the proof so vainly made?

Lighthouse visions cross the bay
with diamonds pale by comparison.

Still, what difference would it make?
These ancient beasties with their

water driven motion detectors,
thousands and hundreds of million

trillions of magi millions
and scallions of spent worthless money …

they took their own filthy lucre!
Yes!!  i remember completely being

loved by those weaklings
linking sausage casings,

with their joints and  smokey joes
their spent crystal stones,

your heart’s treasure
spent so carelessly,

sewn within a trunk,

Make them go!

I can’t stand their betrayal!
Like it or not you say?

I’ll just stop before
my eyes burn from inside,

before it might get even worse … !

It’s useless!

They’ll just throw it all
in the shit can anyway …

since this is the stink
of all betrayers

with their kind courtesy,
the likers of no mercy,

their words spoken
from outer spice land

while they don’t even know
what to do about it

but lay around and ’round
watching the spinning

wheel …

Let Your Wild Horses Run Free!

Let Your Wild Horses Run Free

i lived my life contentedly/
in the shade of the fruited tree/

a world i visited every day/
where i shared my words quite comfortably/

before the apple fell from that tree/
scattering its seeds

within the room of my despair.

 (those scattered seeds still alive after all,
the apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree as the wise ones
say but they’re so hard to find once you’ve lost them!!)

i waited anxiously/
nine long days (three still yet to come!)/

away from the world i knew so well/
feeling lonely, gone, growing more so every day/

forgotten within myself /
by those few who came to visit/

who gave sweet treasure
from their hearts and souls/

the great satisfaction i receive
in that world

gone but not forgotten.

Thirsty, not contented to play
the loser’s game/

seeking ways to share
my thoughts and words/

the Grey Palomino came
quite unexpectedly one day

(that old sage of 60 and 2)

a gift that was given … !

it’s long legs, sinewy,
body grey and beautiful/

gold upon its crown
running smooth with black wings!!
(can you imagine … black wings!)

fast, cool and sleek,
seething with words from masters lips/

who lived so long ago/
and spoke of it so fondly.

those who held its reins/
from ages past/

who rode it effortlessly/
faster even than apples falling from the tree!

words at breakneck speed
come galloping/

accolades of greatness and glory/
above the others!

grafite words of artist intention/
i discovered upon the page/

smoothly fleeting horses wings
along hard copy’s lines/

artfully drawn down the page/
another portal through which

to see/the world more casually.

a loaner from the apple’s core/
a thoroughbred palomino exchanged for

jet black jag!

the search for apple’s seeds/
still locked up somewhere unfound/

the search I’m told
had barely begun.

if memory suits you well/
if good friends you’ll see eventually

sits comfortably within/
take a break from apple seeds …

take a chance!
find out what it’s like/

to ride the Gray Palomino
for a change .,..

and let your wild horses
run free … !

don’t wanna take the mystery away.  readers seem to enjoy this poem even though they may not know what it’s about or could even conjure.  but i’ll tell you if you want to know in case you’re wondering.

the apple is my computer and it’s seeds were scattered because it was broken.  i waited and waited … nine days went by.  i typed on my kindle but it was awful.

then, someone gave me a Blackwing Pencil which came into the world world 62 years ago and was touted as the fastest pencil made.  you should see it!  jet black with gold lettering and a gold cap where the erasure is.

F. scott fitzgerald wrote about the Palanmino pencil with praise and so did many other famous writers.

love my V7 pilot pen or my G2-10 but THIS … i hadn’t written with a pencil in a long time and never really thought i would again.  but THIS.  this was wonderful and it was the perfect hardness and it had this history and it had this name … Blackwing … Palamimo!

so there i was … i had a loaner … a black jag … fast and sleek … that the gods before me had used … .  and it opened a new world for me.  writing became like drawing … drawing words on the page.  words of light from another place of wonder …..

The Saddest Poem


The Saddest Poem

No words to express
thoughts too steep to climb

to see the world
and all its places

to know the truth
to find that space

(of course it’s always there waiting to be seen)

the problem?
how to find it on a

rainy cold day like today

the air thick like
tears from another planet

that touch the skin
and melt your


Chimps to the Left … Third Graders to the Right …. and make it snappy!


jeeze, if words were limited to bare essential words .. bare essential thought .. (like some people want it to be) …. only allowing certain combinations of simpleness to be used … there’d be no use for words … or thought … !!

it’d be like living in 1986 … !

words wouldn’t be words anymore … !!

we’d all be rearranging simple puzzles for everyone to see .. already knowing what they’re meant to be ..

listen … if plentitudes of words … millions and trillions of combinations and thought configurationsm would not be ALLOWED then

silent we would be … we wouldn’t even be allowed to THMINK ..! Like … if shakedspeare and e.e. cummings or me were

equal, where would struggle be?

if the talk we talk does not aim for specificity AND be allowed to meander aimlessly with creative genius … then … what about the future?

what fun would language be fer cryin’ out loud!?

we’d be living inside a vacuum jar of pleureslly complattery … unable to blend the stars at night with ANY kind of pre cognitive

sociality expectorations of orgiastic thought … jeeze … what a fricking waste of time and energy … !

we wouldn’t understand snit!

we couldn’t be at odds with leanings to the right .. we’d BE the right and the right’s ALREADY at odds to lerning … !

we’d ALL be simpletons like they do !!

we’d be so screwed we couldn’t figure out how to put together a Smokey Joe … much less open a bag of briquettes … !!

what WOULD we do during the Super Bowl … ? there wouldn’t even BE a Super Bowl ..

it’d be the ‘Supper Bowl’ … a simpler concept to understand … a national holiday with everyone eating chicken noodle soup!

No … the secret world of reality does not reveal itself with simplicity of thought … ideas against the law…

each pixel of light determines what it is … with words located for each little ‘pix’ …

we HAVE to have them … the future of the planet depends on them … ! i say to people who want to censure word and thought … mind your own

friskiness .,.. !!!

so c’mon fellow scribblers ad finitum … chumps and the like … get published … it’s more than i can say for me … !

if you want to keep it simple be a chimp … or better yet …

visit the average third grade classroom … you’ll be surprised at the genius you’ll see … !




Flowing sand defines the hourglass

as Time draws the hour.

Grains of sand – moments –

flow inexorably toward darkness or

the light of renewal

into the mysteriosity of

dark matter that

fills the space we see as

nothing …

The Light Within


I fixate on time constantly

When i hear the wail of a diesel’s horn
or smell fresh mown grass
or look out at the lake
i hear the sound
and i’m transported to
the stored light of another time

each magnifying the other more deeply every time.

We build our lives on the memories
of the life we live
and the lives we live
are built on the the moments
that we have lived.

We live within the memories of all there is
and all that came before.

We are the instant and the infinite past
and everything between
the vast vista of ever returning light.


My thought incentive is to stretch time,
to live within the moment
or as someone said of Love one time;

‘’Within the within within.’’

The world revolving then
revolving within
the revolving!

Deeper into movement between
the allusion of stasis
where more awareness lies waiting
to be seen between
the worls and sworls of the wood within
the wood i’m working with,
between the spaces of the fingers on my hand
the swirls of my finger pads and
deeper still between the tiny beads
of salty brine into the plasma of the deep

The sea within the space between
the blades of grass
where fluoride and chlorophyl are hidden

Where tiny moisture droplets flood
the subtle link between,

It’s all memory based from DNA
twisting its way into our

The mechanics of our lungs,
the molecules of our wakening selves …

How could we breathe without the breath that came
before the breath we took?

Each breath remembers
the heart beat remembers
the air within.

It’s all memory and memory is Time.

The planets revolve and
what’s beneath remembers what it knows
each experience resting on the

A kaleidoscope of colors turning
patterns of light forming
creating new patterns and forms
from what came before connected
bleeding outward
curling back to know
each moment of light filled

The homes we live in
filled with the memory of angles and
fittings and support; cave man’s fire
the furnace used for heat
memories from long ago ..

From the dawn of time!

First fire given to and to and to and
round and around blocks building no different than
walls or bridges or the spiral helix
passed memories linking all.

We are immersed in memory,
our lives emit memory from
the light that surrounds us.


Pulls memory from all things.

Light, is the road that memory drives on
spilling outward like a ripe


Without light
existence loses memory and
without memory

All is
all ..

The Case of the Missing Furniture

The Case of the Missing Furniture

Chapter I

Thursday morning I think I awoke from what I thought was a dream/doors banging shut echoed throughout the house/the four walls devoid of shadows looked strange and naked; the outlets seemed bored without their plugs.

I knocked on every door and looked inside. Nothing!

Was it a dream?

Chapter 2

I drank my coffee on the porch the yellow sun on my feet my face in shadow, before I even realized every stick of furniture had disappeared!

I called the police!

Chapter 3

“Something has to be missing for two days before it’s missing,” they said.

“But what if its all on a big semi headed for North Carolina or down by the Swale River holding the asses of some homeless people drinking their muscatel, red stains all over on the arms?’’

They left in a huff shouting,  “Homeless people are out of our jurisdiction!”

Chapter 4

Hmmm … I remembered seeing the E.M.T. people. Maybe they were in disguise?

Shit!  Then I remembered!  The E.M.T.’s had visited my house at least ten days prior.

(They told me I was having an anxiety attack. But I disguised my feelings.  I wasn’t going to let them know the chair was a giant hand thrusting up to pull me into some abscess below the foundation of the house. What a ridiculous thought!  I live on a cement slab!!)

“But I couldn’t get the thought out of my head.”

Chapter 5

A while later I said good bye despite her offer to tell me everything that happened.

I said, “I’m perfectly happy wondering what happened. I don’t need any answers.”

Chapter 6

I stuck out my thumb. Houses and bison sped by.

Chapter 7

Finally, I arrived!  The door opened.  I stepped inside.

The driver a 30’s something auburn haired police officer, wearing a green uniform, said her name was Devereaux.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

She smiled, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Well yes,” I said. “But … does this have anything to do with
my missing furniture ….. ?”

Death Chamber


There are rooms of underground form …..

Chambers where people die,
stripped bare of their integrity:
sterile places in deathly colors
cold and dead walls,
crucifixes through windows of time,
life sucked dry,
taken from the lives of innocents,
poor victims of authorities accord,
put to death in various ways;
hung high or shocked in retribution,
drugged into oblivion,
into sleep that never ends
below the ground
where they find sweet serenity,
glad that life is done,
astute within their senses,
dried blood within their veins,
dark houses behind their eyes,
silver dollars taken to rest
within their graves,
free to search through eternity,
to glide on winds of time,
happy to be free
from the unfairness
of life’s travails …

the never ending desire finally


Without Love

Without Love

We make our way across
the frozen tundra of
our hopeful desires
unaware that beauty rests
just below the surface of
our painful hearts …

a streak of light unseen
nestled within each throb of hurt and pain
the light of hope/the knowledge

that Love exists
only were it not for the pain
that comes with it.

Verification of Love’s existence
its very presence
the other half needed
to complete the whole.

Darkness and light giving form
to our illusions
the clarity to continue unfettered
the price we pay for knowledge
and Truth

The dark pain we feel
the price we pay
to find life’s meaning.

We walk into the fuel can
of our hearts unknowing
the air stifling and flammable
with pock marked faces
the scars of infidelity
the permanance of death
the knowledge of wasted time
the loss of hope
the bitter taste of love .. lost.

The random scars of life
and love and beauty and pain

That gives meaning
to all consuming desire
beautiful with lust and anger

The call of bliss and freedom from
the prisons of our minds

The sight of everything good
given meaning

Yet steeped in painful search
along the way …

The choices that we make
the human condition …

are they real or illusion … ?

Without love/life has no meaning.
Without pain/there can be no love.

They’ve Stolen My Serenity

They’ve Stolen My Serenity

I told you yesterday
that spring had sprung
and i knew because

i saw a fly and a bull ant
on the floor by the fireplace
and a tickling on my arm as i wrote this piece

not fifteen minutes ago
a tiny spider had invaded my space!

There are gnats and mosquitos
and other tiny things
i can’t imagine

sharing air that a week ago
floated crystals of lace like wings
each a drifting masterpiece

floating down or streaming sidewise
with crystal clarity;

between the flakes
air that was mine to breathe
while witnessing the beauty

of each and every living thing
stripped bare of all distractions that

Now …

I share with all the little things
that come alive each spring.

My life more complicated now
no longer distraction free

avoiding lines of intersection
between their search for

whatever it is they’re searching for
inside air i’ve been breathing


i’ve shared with no one.

The soil fecund now
i do not use that word lightly

stored snow or frost grown permanent
five or six ‘moon go ’rounds’ ago

where all these beings lived within
their clear winter amber

quick frozen in gathered humus
or crystalline within the muck,

the eggs of their existence
captured when sun’s light slowed

to dim orange
when trees released

their bed covers
to darker still intensity

captured by cold stillness
within their sleeping spaces

during gestation’s time
to lie in wait, for

warmer sun’s returns
to free the life within

those amber spaces.

Not sleeping
having never been alive (as such)

waiting to emerge
from broken water

Released by whiter light!

These creatures that

surround me now!

within my sight!

that feed upon my light!

that touch my flesh!

that share with me my breath!

my choice bereft!

the world no longer stripped bare
of all confusion!

black and white and
clean and fresh!




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Hideous nature, life …

Ghastly in its death bed/its beseiging compass run/bewildering with its struggles/writhing in its pain/desire seeking fire/rifting terror’s delight/severed thinking/thoughts of creepy crawlies/struggling to survive/against the masses …

There’ll be no full moon tonight to guide
the single masted ship that’s sailing/saw tooth tigers biting wind/
forcers bringing winds prevailing
tossed about by slightest night time breezes blowing/
dreamer’s hearts
with sad


Dark clouds racing/every shade of gray/
buffetted inside by deepest

freeze …

Fragments of a Dream Reassembled



An old man remembers a dream he had as a boy.

One day he thought back through time and

A dream about a fine and beautiful place.

fragments of a beautiful stained glass

upon contemplating the memory, the man realizes,

window of untold beauty began to

that for fifty years he has

slowly reassemble itself

searched for the place of his dream.

piece by piece until the

he was never sure the place existed.

window became

Now he sees its golden glow on the

whole once again

near horizon and he is

and the structure and the

walking toward the glow and he

meaning captured within the

yearns to be there/But a forest with a beast/lies between the man

reassembled window became

and the golden place. He wonders if he should

clear and its meaning formed a

go through the forest

magnificent and

or postpone finding the place he has dreamed of

great, intricate, light filled

all his life.

complex thought.

Where I’ll Sleep

Where I’ll Sleep

I want to be buried surrounded by the fields of my youth

next to other kindred souls

who decided to lie in similar peace

on that grassy knoll, sheltered by a giant oak

it’s limbs spread wide to shield us,

it’s roots embracing our boxed homes

cradling us in our sleep,

apart from the hub-bub of life,

too far away for casual visitors with plastic flowers

our serenity only slightly disturbed

by the occasional car rushing by

the sound of tires rolling fast

metal barreling through thick air

rising from summer heat

when corn silk and yellow seedlings trees and grass

all join in the dance of life

thrusting higher and higher toward the sun

the same as my neighbors when they produced seed

multiplied, then passed on

leaving tiny bits of themselves behind

to prove there’s life


In the stillness of winter’s coldest clear night

I’ll rise from within the Earth

to glide on moon’s rays

the wind my flesh,

the air my breath,

the stars my sight.

The oak tree above

my haven …

Flip the Bird

images copy 42

Flip the Bird

I was driving south on U.S. 41 in the middle lane around five thirty, hungry as hell, anxious to get home but not looking forward to another microwave chicken pot pie (I hate to cook when i have to eat by myself) when I spotted my favorite Italian restaurant so I thought, why not have Italian tonight?

When I veered out of the middle lane a whole series of sights and sounds followed; the deafening blast of a diesel horn, the sight of rubber flapping behind four huge spinning tires, the blaring horn of a car growing louder as bright blue LED lights filled the passenger side window, followed by the sight of a boy riding a bicycle veering off the side of the road flashing me the bird while disappearing down a steep embankment.

As my tires dropped onto the gravel parking lot I glanced to the right just as the boy and his bicycle disappeared into the thick growth of cat tails at the bottom of the swale.

I looked up just in time to avoid side swiping a black Mustang. The owner, his body extended half way out of the car window his lip curled into a snear, his face not 18 inches from mine shouting, “Why don’t you learn how to drive you dumb fuck!” looked like he wanted to kick my ass.

I cut the wheel avoiding the back panel by about six inches, kept my eye on the rear view mirror to see if the guy would get out of his car while at the same time wondering if I had enough room to hang a U turn and get the hell out of there when I remembered a GT emblem on the front of his car and realized it would be impossible to outrun the guy.

When I heard the rumble of the GT’s 425 horses I looked back just in time to see a cloud of rocks, pebbles and stones shot like grapeshot from beneath the Mustang’s spinning tires against the passenger side and back window of the Aztec.

The guy fish tailed out of the parking lot, hit the concrete, squealed his tires for about 100 yards, his middle finger visible above the roof line before veering into the maze of traffic.

Safely inside the restaurant I was finally able to place my order but decided to ‘take out’ since i was pretty shook up.

Back home I flipped on Orphan Black, sat down to eat then got so freeking pissed off I completely lost my appetite!

Dammit!  This was the second time in a year they forgot to put extra pepperoni on my Domino’s Pizza!

The Day the Year the Month the Hour the Minute the Second: The Time When I Was Born …


That summer hot and sultry
mid month mid year mid way past midnight
bright lights shining blinding
hands grasping fingers smashing
through the air
i did not really care
it was not my problem

i was their’s for the taking …

i heard the pain that wasn’t mine
explode into my space,
the air, the rush of light that came before the crack of dawn
exposed the ship that i’d been riding on
between the worlds where i once lived
when i was born …

with great surprise i threw away my aqua lungs,
I sucked in air while water flooded,
breathing synapses firing new born pistons,
283 horses blowing streams of light
in all directions!!

… so this is what it’s like to live in  the land of milk and honey … !!!

Came time to leave for home
i looked into the sky i’d never seen,
acorns falling through the air,
cool harmonies on the breeze singing memories
from where it all began
wrapped around light
that fueled the seeds of future’s flight;

while tightly woven earthly patterns
leading everywhere in sight
gave great brilliance
and such

Delight .. !!

Each night I see the world inside my dreams

wrapped inside the morning dew;

Each morning my life begins anew,
never sure of all that i have seen
until i return

and do it all again and again and again and again and again and again … until i think …

i am …..

The Amphibian

The Amphibian

Occasionally the amphibian/rose out of the water/
climbed the dune
then clamored along the sandy lane
in front of the cabin.

If we were lucky we got to see it
lumbering past dripping water,
it’s propellers still spinning,
balanced on six huge tires
taller than me,
three on each side
in the middle/it’s two powerful diesel engines roaring,
the air vibrating with sound and power,
thick black smoke blown rearward
from curved exhaust pipes
six or eight feet high
on both sides of the raised cab
where we could see the top half
of the drivers face
his eyes peering through three narrow windows
and the individual faces of ten men
looking through five portholes
on each side/before it disappeared
around the curve two houses away
the only remnants of its presence
the decrescendo
of its twin diesels
moving toward the lime rock road
I rode to go fishing …

and a black haze of
smoke slowly moving west
pushed along by an on shore breeze
blown in from the lake/before only


filled the

The Last Time I Saw June

The last time I saw June was at a birthday party she threw for her nephew at their big old house one Saturday in late fall.

I’ll tell you what the inside of their house looked like because it plays a role in the tragedy.

Through the front door darkly colored stairs lead to a landing then right a few steps to the second floor.

Straight ahead on the first floor, half way to the kitchen, on the right was what we would call today, the living room where June threw the best birthday party ever; one continuous strand of low level activity, never boring, exactly like her summer yard parties except instead of booze and poker we drank Coke and played kid games.

June moved around the room cajoling, laughing at our antics, giving prizes.

With candles blazing, June brought the cake into our midst.  We gathered, around, the room quiet for the first time.

Knife poised over the cake June, master of the tease, poked and prodded each of us until we were practically drooling before giving each of us a good sized piece of her frosted cake.

It’s easy to see how she lured him into the temptation to eat a piece of her cake deliciously sweet as I’m sure he thought it would be.

Unable to resist, within seconds I was asking for more.

After cake,  we could play games inside or run around outside getting grass stains on our pants.

I explored the house.

Starting with the big yellow kitchen with its old fashioned faucets, windows looking down on the grassy area where Jim and June had their summer parties before the tragedy struck.

After looking into a scary space below the stairs so dank and dark I couldn’t see where it ended I decided to go outside but first, I had to pee.

June told me to use the bathroom upstairs.

I creaked up the stairs to the landing, turned right rising to where I found myself standing between the bathroom to my left (with its black and white tiles, green walls, pedestal sink and cast iron tub with curled feet) and a room at the end of the hall behind a closed door.

After peeing I tip toed toward the door at the other end the hall.

Half way, on the left, a well lit bedroom with high ceilings, a good sized six over six window looked down on the same sidewalk June and my dad walked on the night the tragedy began to unfold.

I opened the door and looked inside the room at the end of the hallway.

There was a ghastly darkness in the corners of the bedroom that seemed to suck light from the walls and floor creating a death like pall where later, I was to learn, June’s husband Jim had blown his head off with a shotgun.

Knowing That We Knew It All Along!

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it slowly started appearing for a long time

but I didn’t realize it until it appeared all the time

then I thought back and realized that it HAD been appearing …

and i knew it had been appearing

even when it slowly started appearing a long time ago

when I didn’t realize it!
way back when it first started happening

i didn’t realize it at all!

but i KNEW it all the time …

And now it’s here all the time!

I thought back to
when I didn’t realize it

when it slowly started happening
and now, realizing it was happening …

knowing now it happens all the time
i now know i knew it all along!

how funny!

i knew it was appearing!

i knew it was happening!

but i didn’t know it at the time

i KNEW IT ALL ALONG!!!  Ha Ha Ha ……

after all that time!!


We bought two cardboard containers packed with 15 or 20 corn bores covered in loose black muck, at a farm five miles from where we turned off the black top, then another three miles along a gravel road, snow plowed high on both sides, past farmers fields barely visible stretched white to the gray horizon line, snow tornados rising and falling then rising and falling again and again.

We parked next to a mountain of snow plowed higher than the car. Hidden from sight a frozen desert of ice where, we fished on an inland lake the shoreline a hundred yards from where we parked.

Through knee deep snow the Arctic wind gusting 25-30 mph against our backs we dragged our plywood ‘fish boxes’ to the shoreline then another quarter mile across the slippery surface.

He chopped five holes through the two foot thick ice (careful to angle each larger at the bottom so as not to be funnel shaped, impossible to pull a fish through) using a heavy iron spud rounded at one end, a leather strap at the other wrapped around his wrist to keep it from slipping into the black water when punched through the the last few inches of ice.

We spent the rest of the day fishing for bluegills, watching for the slightest movement of our bobbers, scooping films of ice that formed over the exposed water every few minutes, moving from hole to hole, watching for the red flags of our ‘tip ups’, sitting on our ‘fish boxes’, staring downward, hunched aerodynamically against the icy cold wind flowing over our backs.

You could hear the ice thunder and moan menacingly like an angry bear, as it grew thicker, ripping sounds heard in the distance or nearby, crackling for seconds at a time, jagged points of iced lightening suddenly etched close to where we sat, sending shivers of fear through me that the ice would open its jaws and swallow us into the inky black depths where not even the slightest ray of light could possibly exist.

Toward the end of day, the sun a vague halo of yellowish white against a dreary gray sky, we packed the poles and tip ups into our fish boxes, 20 or 30 bluegills frozen stiff at the bottom.

Faced downward, pushing against the north wind my toes and the tips of my fingers frozen numb, my face burning we trekked toward the shoreline, through thigh deep powdered snow, over the mountain, returning to the warmth of the car.

We drove through the dimming light of late afternoon into the dark sky of mid winter’s early evening night, arriving home just in time for dinner.

Daylight Birds Take Morning Flight


Daylight Birds Take Morning Flight

I was up before seven
I made a pot of coffee
I swept the floor
I listened to the radio

I poured the coffee
I put sugar and cream in
I climbed back into bed and slept
until the dawn of night.

I watched the moon arch overhead
from orange to milky white; silver dollar sized
with full moon’s
full moon light.

I watched night birds take night time flight.

While breezes washed ashore beside
I walked the line where all three meet; the sky
within dark water, waves of moonlight,
sparkling grains of sand reflecting light below/above
between each others sight

within the kiss of  night … 

I looked into the grounds of sweet good byes/the thought of daylight in disguise/the sky that touches deep within …

The sound of inland seas.

I climbed back into bed and slept again.

With speckled stars above the nighttime breeze
with moonlight showing through the trees
I’ll sleep ‘till morning light
when day begins
and daylight birds
take morning
flight …

It All Started That Night



It all started that night when I wasn’t sure what she was asking me!

I thought it had something to do with skiing!?

I didn’t know WHAT she was thinking but I didn’t want to say anything.

I thought maybe we were supposed to be meeting Dick and Jeannie for a night out at the lodge!

Or maybe it had something to do with that scheduled court date?

When you get right down to it, it didn’t make any difference to me.  As far as I was concerned, it was six of one and one of those bakers dozen of the other. (I heard someone say that once. It put a smile on my face.)

So i said, “OK!”

You know, I had to be positive!

I KNOW how she is about that ‘being positive’ stuff. She’s always stressing it so much which well, most of the time I think I AM positive but, does a little more than 50% of the time mean most of the time?  I’m not sure.

So I kept my mouth shut.  I didn’t want to hurt her feelings!

Later that evening we drove out to the lodge.

– 2-

It was a cold night! I mean, it was cold as hell! It felt like there was ice between my jacket and my shirt!

She had that mink thing on but it only covered her neck!

We stood outside waiting for about a half hour!

Finally I said, ‘’Where in the hell are Dick and Jeannie?“

She got that quizzical look on her face!  “UH-OH,” I thought.  “Here comes another one of her zingers!”

 “I’m freezing my tukkus off!”  she said. “You told me it wouldn’t be that cold!”

 I knew I had done no such thing so I said, “I did no such thing!’’

 So she says, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

 She was so angry she spit the words right out out at me!

I didn’t want to be rude.  So I took the blame.

“I’m sorry,” I said.   “If I would have known … ”

Pause …

 “I thought Dick and Jeannie were going to meet us here anyway!”

“Dick and Jeannie?! Fer Christ’s sake, they’re the last people I want to see on a night like this!”

Pause … then,

“Why don’t we go inside where the  fireplace is and have a brandy?” she said.

I shrugged my shoulders.  “Why not? Maybe we could have a nice steak afterward?”

She said the food at the lodge was lousy.

Then I thought won’t she be surprised?! I didn’t think there was a fireplace over there! (It’s one of the worst lodges in town!  And it’s not that big of a town!” )

Then I remembered it was Sunday and I was pretty sure they weren’t serving liquor on Sunday!

Boy was she mad!!

(That was about the funniest thing that happened all day! You should have seen the look on her face! It was pure irony!)


We got home around nine thirty.

She was angry and wouldn’t speak to me.

“You knew all along didn’t you!” she said.

“Kind of.  But I was hoping that … well, you know how it is.”

Pause …

But she didn’t believe a word I said!

To make matters worse, the pilot light blew out and we didn’t have any god forsaken matches!  The ones we had were wet!

Then she got sick!

I thought at first she might be pregnant.

I asked her but as soon as the words spilled out of my mouth I realized we hadn’t had sex in over a year!


She cried after that.

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” she said in between sobs and retching.  “I’m pregnant with Dick’s baby!”

“What a relief,” I thought.  I’d been wanting to break up with her for almost five years!

That son of a bitch Dick had actuality done me a favor!



Two nights ago I woke suddenly from sleep and caught a glimpse of someone in a black and yellow flannel shirt running down the hallway outside the bedroom.

I was so startled that I woke Jodi telling her excitedly, what I saw.

She naturally told me I was dreaming but I was convinced someone was out there.  I thought maybe it could be Matt or even Jordan since Jordan was spending the night.

I got out of bed to make further inspection.

I turned on a living room light.

I heard Jodi telling me from the bedroom, that I was dreaming.

I looked around and having seen no one felt slightly foolish. I returned to bed telling Jodi how perplexed I was; how sure I was that I had seen someone.

Within minutes I fell back asleep.

The next evening we watched the Stephen King movie, “The Stand” until past 11:00 p.m. Then we read until past eleven thirty. When we finally turned the lights off, I lay on my right side with my eyes open looking out the bedroom door into the hallway.

The door was open exactly the way it had been the night before.

The dream I thought I had suddenly appeared within my mind and I recalled the whole sequence of events most realistically.

I replayed the dream several times in my mind each time looking at it critically.  Was it real?  Or, my imagination?

Suddenly I concluded that the figure running down the hall WAS real!

I realized this because upon inspection last night I had only looked in the living room from the limited perspective at the end of the hallway where I had turned on a living room light.

I reasoned that the evidence to support a phantom dream intruder was not strong enough.

Had I ventured into the dining room then inspected the kitchen and the laundry room and found nothing, I would have had every reason to conclude a non-existent intruder.

But I had done none of those things.

My further conclusion was that my body had perceived danger and had reasoned it best to leave further exploration alone.

Fear washed over me as this sequence of thoughts ticked off.  I became very agitated. My heart was beating and my head throbbed.  I continued to feel in imminent danger.

I got out of bed and crept into the living room. By now it was after midnight. I was wide awake.

I stood in the living room with the lights off trying to make myself invisible looking for movement outdoors. I moved to the sliding glass doors on the north end of the living room peering through the slats for perhaps ten minutes, waiting to see some spectral figure creep across the back yard.

Then I checked all the doors and windows and discovered that the latch on one of the sliding glass doors was faulty.

I went into Matt’s room and fetched a golf club which I laid in the aluminum track hoping this would keep the door from opening.

I was scared and I felt foolish for surely if there was an intruder he was by now perfectly aware of my clumsy attempts to secure my house. He was probably back in the weeds laughing at me.

After securing the door I retired to the couch where in an attempt to find some comfort I grabbed the first book I laid eyes on. I ended up reading several stories from the Apocrapha.

I finally drifted into sleep around 4:30 a.m.

My sleep was characterized by sharp, vivid dreams.

I was on some quest and was being faced with multitudes of challenges. The family was there for part of it.

At one point I had to go into a cave to fetch some round stone like object that was suspended inside of an indentation in the ceiling of the cave.

John was eager to help as he always is but I barked a command at him to stay away from the danger. There were holes inside the cave that he could have slipped into.

The round object was heavy but I prevailed.  Once the round object was retrieved we were able to pass over a small creek that earlier we could not cross.

We succeeded in meeting that challenge.

Continuing along I discovered I had a partner. There was just the two of us. A lithsome girl like figure with great energy and courage. There was a strong bond between us. She needed me and I felt a deep strong need and trust for “her” with a great deal of sexual attraction.

She was undressing and was turned sideways to me. I was transfixed by her girlish breasts as her arms were raised above her head in the most appealing way.

I awoke from sleep the next morning seeing a dark gray sky.

But I didn’t feel confused and muddled as I often do when sleep aludes me. I knew it was because I had ventured deep into my subconscious mind close to a place where energy and awarness emanate.  When this happens a very special clarity of thought results.  This doesn’t happen often.  I never know when it will occur.

I had great clarity of thought that day seeing things ‘below the surface’ with a sense of heightened awareness; brighter colors, making interesting connections.

While waiting to cross Gibralter Street two blocks from where I live a car unexpectedly swerved toward me, then passed directly in front of me coming quite close, as it turned onto Birchcrest Street and continued along, away from where I stood.

I was taken aback by the car’s sudden movement and close proximity.  I wondered if the driver was aware I was standing at the corner waiting to cross.

As the car curved across my field of vision I looked into the pale blue eyes of the driver; a blond haired man of perhaps 27 years.  His chin resting on the window slot gave the impression that his head did not have a body attached to it; a severed head floating inside the car!

It peered at me through the top of its pale gray eyes predatory like.  I felt threatened but refused to look away.

The pale blue eyes had the same pained, scared, guilty look of a criminal on the verge of getting caught. The eyes were frighteningly cold, and expressionless but for the slightest smirk; a look that filled me with a kind of dread I can only describe as sub human rage.

I made a mental note of the license plate; E77-1849 South Carolina and continued watching as the car drove away.

At the end of the first block the car slowed. I took notice and began walking toward the car.

I continued walking toward the car as it slowly drove along the second block.

Toward the end of the second block the left turn blinker began to flash.

“I knew it!” I exclaimed!

I began sprinting across the empty lot toward the street that separated me from the second empty lot that separated me from my house at the middle of the block completely focused on the car with the floating head as it slowly moved toward my house coming  to rest  at the end of the driveway.

Halfway across the second empty lot my heightened sense of awareness told me that … the car was empty.

Oops! Sorry! We’ll Do The World Series After I Tell This Tale of Horror …


It was like a scene from a cheap horror movie except … it was real! I wasn’t dreaming!

At least I didn’t think I was … it was THAT REAL!

End: Prologue
continuing …

It all started around five thirty you know, at the ‘cuspy’ time of day.

(Now i know why they call it the ‘crack between the worlds’. But I didn’t know it at the TIME!)

By the time it ended I was gonna call but, after two hours I still couldn’t catch my breath!

At that point I wasn’t even sure I knew who I was!

The phone wasn’t charged anyway. So, I decided to wait.

In the meantime I wiped out that salad bowl.

I KNOW I know! I know how that pisses you off but, what the hell! It looks like real wood to me!

Besides that … what could I do? I was wide awake!

(To be honest with you I was a little afraid to sleep. “That’s funny!” I thought! “Maybe i WAS sleeping.” hahaha ….. )

End: Post Prologue

continuing …

My skin was still crawling!

Post Post Prologue

continuing …

I was reading that book about Mars. Our Mars it’s called. Out of this world stories about canals and spires and shit like that, when I decided to make a cup of latte.

I like my latte sweet. This time it was a little too sweet but I didn’t think anything of it.

Little did I know!  (Shit like that happens all the time to me.)

See, I didn’t really care.  I was in one of those moods. You know how I get … kind of antsy.

So, like I said, it was ‘cuspy’ out there on the patio.

End: Chapter I

continuing …

I sat down at the little sette’.  I took a couple sips of that sweet latte.

I set the latte on the glass coffee table.

I looked around.

At first I thought, “It’s pretty light out there for being ‘cuspy’,” but within seconds that passed.

I KNEW the sun had shifted because “BAMM!” Like I said, there I was in the cusp!  The “Crack between the worlds!”

Or, like I like to say, ‘The butt crack between the worlds.” hahaha …. Except, at the time I didn’t realize it.

continuing …
Googling Sucubus, Incubus and Vlad the Impaler …

For the Love of Coney


If you’re from Michigan you’ll understand
the thirst and lust we share
for coney island hotdogs
a part of our

They come in two varieties from
two geographies I like to call the
Motor City and the
Fisher Body variety but
you might know them as the
Flint or Detroit coney … OR

wet or dry …

I prefer the wet from Flint but

I can eat them either way …

There’s good natured rivalry between the two clans

defined by either:
Fisher Body, Buick; the Audubon or GMI

Ford, Cadillac, Gross Point or dare I mention
River Rouge

(where someone said that
Robo Cop was born? hmmm … )

The Rouge River !!

Filled with the blood of our forefathers
sliced from their veins by their great God
Henry …

Ours is the friendliness of rivalries;
each group tends to look down their noses at the other
but after all …

our fruit of kind
and our passion for them, both share the same


(upstate they’re pronounced “Coeneez”)

Besides, there’s WAY too much in common
for either ‘clan’ to really care …

our shared differences are just a good natured excuse to
banter about something we both agree on …

Like two Detroit Tiger fans arguing which was better
the ’68 World Series team with;

Kaline, Cash, Gates Brown,
Hank Aguirre, Denny McClain and the others ..

(every one of them bright, unique stars
in their own rights!)

that other bunch brought to fame by our dearly beloved


(Whose name will ALWAYS stand alone … )

A delightful sense of argument considering everything in common;
the total love for Sparky, our nostalgia simply for the names Briggs or
Tiger Stadium, (both names interchangeable like ‘crik or creek’)

Sweet feelings shared by both clans
from an age gone by we thought we’d live in forever

above, or below or surrounding it all we heard the voices of
George (Kell) and Ernie (Harrell)

giving us the spoken words of our

it was
through their eyes and minds
and voices … !

(… like a favorite song you could
listen to forever … played countless times all summer long
year after year after year …)

that we watched
our athletic Gods of strength and character play


Just the mention of their names
brings tears to my eyes …

If you’re a Michigander
I’ll bet it does to your eyes
too …

continued … The World Series

Light Stained Against A Sea of Thought


From a place where time was small with brightest light

came purest boyhood dreams

within my mind that night


with sun and single pleasure sought …

I moved from place to place …

seeking other orbits … better places to see


move and turn about

and look upon her face with

wonder …



Light stained against the sky of thought

suspended in time …

hovered over each place …

waiting to be seen.

Perfect prizes captured to be lived in



rain returning to the sky


for future retrieval.


 never ending cycles return,

the light of time


the light of days remembered and forgotten

taken in like


to a newborn child.

Thoughts that flicker in and out

like waves along the



purest water replacing every

grain of sand

forever …

takes me back


where it all


My Struggle


I struggle …

I search …

I see a  flash of flowing color that

quickly disappears …

the allure of


that never was …

 A stolen lover hardly seen


light beneath the bedroom door at

night …

The room of


I sometimes sleep in …

the other room I sometimes

laff and cry in …

the other place I sometimes

dwell in

the other space I think and

feel in

at other times gone by


other moonlit skies …


other darkest nights …


other lunar cycles

’round and ’round and ’round and ’round and ’round


bye … ?


Where are the words that

Spark the night (?) that

Clear the sky (?) that

Make it all so

Right (?)

words that

light the colors that

lie sleeping

under the ground,

beneath the soil of



Where are the words of


Alabaster Sea


What’s it like to live on different planes between
light and darkness un-seen
no seasons in between?

Where …

Trump card mocks justice never seen
the vicar of all dis-belief
the blind of those deceived by wicked sights
convinced of reason from the sparking light of darkest days

Seen wandering through our streets on darkest


giving thoughts to those who cannot see
the dried bones of their destiny
once again believing
the hungry greedy voice singing
spectral noise from
deceitful inner visions given
convincing with false voice screaming …

Beware of evil everywhere! Be fearful for your lives !!

The half life sound of the high priest deceiving;

communion wafers given then taken then disappearing
beneath a sea of squandered
trust …

He calls with reasons yelling!

Whereupon those conniving fools he uses
tell us with convincing pallor
it’s only size that matters!

The biggest size, the biggest prize
think BIG (the true meaning behind their words) but .. think
naught … !

See their eyes brightly lit but,

indecipherable … ?

Hear the canon of their vain principles … ?

Watch them steal
the last gallon of light that’s given, the love of life
they say they’re giving
a lie they’ve told so many times
they think it truthful; a
distraction from the last infamy those
recent memories still living behind the fog of
not so long all but …

forgotten …

While …

Powerful forces once again
wage war within the senses
the army of feigned superiority
defending ugly truths he’s spoken
with cunning exploit of our differences
our lives of inner freedom sold
the same lies once again told
behind another fog of distant
memory once again …

forgotten …

There are no tomorrows
there’s only life between
the not so distant past and

another ending …

See the hamster and the snake, hear the cock’s call to arms;

Behold other nations deadly games, their confidential schemes
the thrill of every kill you’ll never see them feel
behind deceit that reasoning can’t defend  …

His loving hand of mercy given? An ugly play of words
should not be taken 
lightly … if

at all!

Do the followers  think they know what is?

With naive thought they give their answers blindly …


the weight;
the wait;
too late;
the knot;
the naught of thought;
the heavy burden likely;
their schemes and murderous plots;
the light and darkness of our dreams
the theft of light between;
our lives that can be sold and bought
still live behind the darkest fog of all …

another deadly day of infamy …




Imagine ….

It’s a frigid early winter

day …

no snow on the

ground trees bare of

leaves …

fingers and

limbs black against a dismal


sky …


you are on a bicycle

barreling down a black top

road pushed by a

powerful western

wind …

you are the only object

static ..

in your world of

movement …


the road a black


disappears beneath spinning

wheels …

boulders submerged among

giant elms separating fallow

fields of broken

corn stalks, plow lines

extending into the

distance …

approach …..

run parallel …..


disappear into the

void …


reality pure …

unencumbered by

thoughts and words


tiny …

distant …



larger and

larger … forming

funnels of


color, form, size and

movement …


You are experiencing


within a

river of

flowing awareness …

on a frigid early winter

day ….


Your world


against trees bare of

leaves …

fingers and limbs


reaching into a dismal


sky …

You are


wind … where

there IS no

wind …


IN wind

there is no

sound …

there is only




and SIGHT with

heart and breath

combined …

the sound of your




you are moving

faster through a world of

silent magic river flowing

sight …

while …

… IN the wind is only silence the

sound of your serenity pulling


further through

space …


The spinning road

beneath you

flies the tape that

measures growing


distance measures

time … the road


yet …

IN the wind is only silence the

sound of your serenity pulling you


further into

time …

the road that has an

end in time the

point of no



thread keeps growing


the fear within you

growing larger

yet …


… IN the wind there is only

silence the

sound of your



further pulling


into space


end …


point of no

return …


your comfort dream is


fear is taking

place …

the turning point upon


the dream within


river flowing



serenity drawing

closer …

the time is

right …


IN the wind there

is only …..




now …


the end is HERE …

A Time For Sleeping


Saturday was a cold, gray day.

I lit the fireplace for a quick warm up …

Before leaving the warmth of the cottage

I wrote a little more,
donned my hoody and coat
turned off the gas
grabbed my camera and
entered the cold but
beautifully pure refreshing

air …

I walked …

… I walked up the hill
along 23 to the
alabaster pipeline then
backtracked toward
where I began my journey.

At the base of the hill
frozen water looked like a small stream
or a miniature river system or
what a large river basin would look like
from high above …

Two sets of raccoon tracks walked to
a fork along their frozen highway
where they went their separate

ways …

This world I was in had become
suspended in time …

Fully asleep within the ground of shadows
all things living framed in
shades of gray,
naked, dead or alive and

waiting …

For what?

For warmth to come once more
a time to grow

from liquid water sugar fed
the leaves and buds of trees absorbed

from sunlight stored
leaves giving back after

taking in …

From full sun’s invisible light
a hundred shades of differing green
sun’s light returning
life’s burning

ember …

Roots reaching deeper
seeking … seeking …

Seeking to remember …

But for now …
a time for

sleeping .,..


He hasn’t uttered a single word
of truth since I’ve
heard him start talking …

Not one word used in sentence that he has
shouted at us!

Yet ….

He has convinced a lot of people that he IS

speaking truth … BY THE TONE OF HIS VOICE …

Little people like the tone because it makes them feel

BIG … BIG … BIGGER ! while

Bigger people like it because it means there’s gonna be some
shit kickin’ going’ on …

(Fuckin’ A we’re great!)

His minions are coming from everywhere to worship their
commander in chief …

THEY are at his beckon command … they need what they need from him.  He gives them license …

At the same time
Mothers and Children are going to

Washington D.C. to march for the
continuing civilization of our culture … the world!

women who bear our children .. it’s the
WOMEN who are willing to stand up to be


these women KNOW .. as all women know …

what is good and what is bad.

 Maybe it’s time for the forces to meet after

all this time … centuries perhaps if
you look at it that way ..

Those women in Washington D.C.  They are

our warriors .

They have my highest respect …

They stand for Life … all of our lives …. !

THEY are standing up for US …

I wish those women well …

I wish us ALL well … !

Maybe this will help …

think of them all … even the daughters … as going up against

the forces of

Hell …

Me and I and Myself


I hadn’t seen myself in a while.

We had a lot of catching up to do.

There was non stop talking!

I wished I’d shut up sometimes but …….

I understand …

Most of the time we’re ‘buds’ but
well … there WAS a lot of catching up to do and

sometimes it’s so

And here’s what else ….

I can ……. YELL … ! and it’s no problem because
I know we both know
what I’m
yelling about !


Oh … ! Sorry … !

I get carried away sometimes …


images-1So … you and Coney made two … right?

Well I mean like, how can you resist Coney’s charms?

Ummmmm  …. have you had Coney and chardanodweez …!

The perfect red wine to go with Coney to …


Yeeeeeeeee … Haaaa … !    Boy howdy, I bet that Coney was good …….  wasn’t it?!

No ……… ?

You didn’t have a Coney?

I’m not speaking to you for a week!


Wasted Away … Again …

imagesSlush keeps ya’ from bein’ in a rush … if
‘ya don’t want to be crushed don’t
rush through slush in a rush …

Winds gusting 35 to 40 buffeting

This ain’t no Margaritaville … !!/I don’t care what Jimmy declares …

i’m wasted away …

I’m down to my last jigger … !



Lake and Stone


We pitched our tents behind the dunes within a gnarly stretch of evergreens/ that tempered onshore breezes/by the glacier lake/moving and alive/her ever present hypnosis/the sound of water lapping the


the gentle round stones she makes/flat like Decco candy/or tiny sculptures/move with circular motion/all along the shoreline/as far as you can


With sudden drop of miniature curls/the sound she makes when resting/a farewell kiss is planted/to rocks and boulders/scurged from land while melting/broken down over millennia …


Some fantastic journey through the ages/rocks and boulders bit by bit/surrendering sizes/to grains of flash, quartz,  prismatic color/tiny atoms born of the mass/ from which they’d been



With low toned emotion the great lake at rest now, from days of liquid passion …

The marriage of lake and stone …

Sweet Melancholy



Emotions ebb and flow
from time’s reflected light/the dreams of life we share;

The stories that we tell ourselves
of summer light collected;

the joy of love’s discovery (bright days of future past … )

or melancholy thoughts we sing (through dark storms affected … )

From darkest storms of Life gone by
From dreams of summer light we’ve shared

The seeds we sow along the way
the fruits of our

perception and despair …