I realize there’s a better way to do something.

It feels good to figure something out, to solve a problem.  Comes the epiphany?! Bamm!  The light goes on!  You want to share the light of the discovery.  So you tell about your epiphany.

     The driving force behind an epiphany and the need to share is that you’ve made a connection that needed to be made or that created more awareness, more light, more memory, more connections.
     The spark is the ‘ah ha moment”.  It’s a brighter spark then the one that resulted when you remembered where you put the sugar.
     Realizations give extra light!
     When there’s EXTRA light there’s enough left over to share.  Sharing light is the best.  It’s the only requirement to love.  It can happen on the lowest level … a brief nod between two people at a four way stop … or the greatest display.
     Or, there can be light shared and darkness.  I feel like my innards are pulled out sometimes.  The light fails to sustain itself.  A candle in a corner of darkness sizzles to it’s extinguishment.
     Eager to share the light, I tell of the realization.  I see a look of perplexity.  The light from your eyes wanting to be received as a spectrum of light surrounding some beautiful thought that could be shared does NOT generate perplexity.  Light misses its mark falling into darkness.
     You WANT to share the light then see what form of light you’ll get in return.
     It’s the game two lovers play.  Badminton with lobs of thought conveyed by unusual spectrum.  If there’s laughter there’s socially accetable orgasm.
     The socially acceptable tool used to fend off the return of light was, in this case, a look of perplexity.  Light shared creating perplexity? Perplexity is the force field that won’t let the light get through.
     People have all kinds of reasons to keep the world external.  They may think they’re in love or loved, because they exhibit or display or accept the correct kind of behavior but won’t allow or don’t realize there’s no penetration on a personal level.
     People develop sophisticated ways to deny other  existence by exhibiting socially acceptable totally appropriate behavior that maintains distance.
     Words and gestures that don’t draw a person in by acknowledging who they are, what they’ve said.  Skirting around a response while maintaining ‘distance’ saying positive words banal but expected by the general populace since impersonality has risen in defense of a world that otherwise might be overwhelming?
     Or of course, if there’s pain below the surface that must be kept from being exposed to the world and we all have pain and we all keep the world at bay but some of us don’t realize we do this even though we don’t have pain because it’s the way we were taught but …..  what is life without real connection?  Two lights magnifying each other?
    These socially acceptable responses to a comment or thought are banal but required on a basic level but don’t contain statements that acknowledge the COMMENT, the thought behind the comment or the person who makes the comment.
     Has the word, ‘you’ been used?  Was there a follow up question after your statement which, would indicate the thoughts of the listener were captured by the thoughts of the speaker.
     This is one way to hide behind those words but, it’s another way to jab.  To hurt.  In fact, invariably
     After the attempt to share, when the light is not received by the ‘other’ and is in fact, denied … I feel deep sorrow that may last a brief second way down in the depths behind my sternum.  I feel alone.  I feel abused.  Like I’ve been slapped in the face.  Confused Disappointed.  Betrayed.
     This is just one example.  Conversations resemble broken fragments of thought and words, laundry lists, personal comments, transpiring necessary information all day day after day but, these exchanges can contain NOTHING of a personal nature.   … no recognition of who the person is they are anonymous beings saying the appropriate responses so that lines move on always lines even if they’re broken lines or lines yet to be constructed walking across the parking lot at walmart.
     To pay compliments is one of the most sincere sacred and easiest ways to acknowledge another person by finding their best thing then, commenting on it.  It’s saying, “I see you as a person who at this moment is special for this reason.”  It says, you are able to see that the other has done something well, that it has given pleasure and in return wants to give pleasure back.   recognizing that YOU have done it.
     Ironically, one can give compliments all day despite their disappearance into the well of bottomless words and thought where all unrecognized thought and feeling descends never to be seen again … Ironic?
     Frustrating to the ‘giver’, the one who yearns to see light taken in and returned it’s the sharing quality that means both people can experience a moment of illumination … smile and say … yeah … cool.
     Unfortunately, light given but not returned drains the life force.  It’s like,  if you’re prospecting for gold you’re investing a lot of energy NOT finding it but for a gram here or there that gives hope there will be more.  At what point does one stop prospecting and assume the character of ‘banality’ in return?  How awful, not to make connection!
Acknowledging people’s existence is what defines our essential ‘humanity’.  Giving light to another person and receiving it in return is the greatest gift as, it’s the only perpetual motion mechanism in the universe?!
     I give light all day in my personal life but, seldom get it back.  Under well defined situations there occasionally ARE exchanges.
     I try to create awareness by focusing on the aspects outside of myself worth paying attention to in the other person in my life that can be seen and returned at the moment then, as a memory can be returned to the ‘other’ later,  at the appropriate time.  A memory  recollected that MAGNIFIES, the power of the present if the light is allowed to be received without the banal, off-putting barriers that result in darkness.  How depressing.
     Memory is captured light that can be turned on at will to be used in the future.  It should be returned.  Is it returned?
     No.  Is it important?  Yes … but no.  Why?  Because, I don’t EXPECT to get something in return.  My only expectation is to keep throwing snowballs of light at the yaw of the hungry beast hoping some day to hit it’s mouth or eyes or deep into the recesses of its brain … if only for a moment …..

The Crane Part III


Lowering the Crane 

I lower the big crane onto the sand in the open field across from the cottage.  The instant its feet touch the ground its head drops back into the S position.

Before running around to the back, I stop and look into its eye one more time.  I see no flicker of awareness.  Instead, the same blank stare I saw when I first looked into its eye when?  Was it less than an hour ago??

So many experiences crammed into such a short period of time!

I run to the back of the cottage where I tell Donna about the big bird. I tell her how beautiful it is.  “Maybe it’s sick,” I tell her, “But, we can feed it frogs, nurse it back to health like you did with the baby squirrels.”

I run around the side of the cottage, anxious to get back to the crane.  Halfway there, I turn and look behind.  Donna stands motionless, her mouth agape, staring at the crane.  .

She Strokes Its Neck

To reassure her I stand next to the crane, lightly touching its back. 

The crane opens its eyes unfurls its long neck, while slowly turning its head left to right before staring straight ahead, motionless.  

Unable to resist Donna caresses its long neck with the back of her hand, speaking to it in low tones, while asking me stupid questions like, did the bird act like it was sick? 

Jake Willis 

I sense her feelings are warming to the subject so, I say to her. “‘Well Jeez, I don’t know mom.  I’ve never met a sick bird before.” Her smile is soft … and caring.  

Jake Willis, the old guy living on the opposite side of the curve three houses west appears out of nowhere.  We become a group of three thinking indecision. 

Jake isn’t saying much.  He squints a little staring at the crane his thumb and index finger moving along his chin line, in deep thought.  

Donna repeats her concern that the bird could be sick only this time, she looks to Jake for confirmation.

Jake asks me if the bird tried to stab me in the eye.  I just stare at him.

They insist the bird could have blinded me.  They tell me the bird is too sick to live. 

The Verdict 

I hate them for saying that.  Who are they to decide whether another living thing should live or die?  

They look at each other then back at me.  Without saying a word I knew the verdict. 

I look at the crane, its head feathers tousled by an on shore breeze.remembering the moment I saw its head above the cat tails such a short while ago.  

Then I have an idea!  I open my mouth to tell them I could take the crane back to the swale where I found it so it can die in peace.  Alas!  It’s too late.  Jake is already more than halfway to the curve.

Next: Waiting For Death

The Further Adventures of Gile Steele

Further Adventures of Gile Steele

So, there he was at the hospital exactly a year later at the same time, same place having the same procedure performed, by the same doctor, in the same room, next to the nurse’s station where a year earlier several factors came together in the middle of the night causing  an unexpected event to occur after his nurse gave him a tiny pain pill to alleviate the fiercest, most relentless pain of his life … then told him the next little pill would NOT be due for another four hours … (four fucking hours?)!  What was he to do?

After the nurse left his room he thought about what had just happened then, in a drug and pain induced brain fog pulled the tubes from his left arm and, using the food cart as a walker made a half assed attempt to escape the hospital for some unknown reason.

From that point forward the “real” world fell away was rearranged, reconstructed and put back together again when  the strange figure of a man appeared moving down a darkened hallway away from the nurses station, at two a.m. looking very determined, pushing a food cart, wearing black shorts,  t-shirt and a pair of white TED hose, where he stopped and was seen telling two nurses, a CNA, a security guy (with arms crossed over golfing shirt … NOT proving that he was a bad ass),  that he had every right to leave the hospital if he wanted to.

Soon after the exchange he returned to his room and fell asleep on a lounger that gave great comfort even though it didn’t take the pain away, after the charge nurse downstairs (an Air Force Academy graduate) convinced him it would be better if he DID return to his room.

And so, he did.

As to the significance of the occasion? He told me, “When an unexpected event occurs, you get startled out of your senses and if you’re lucky when this happens, unusual forces from all over the place join together, making all kinds of sparks and new connections and shit that gyrates, that sends light out crossing other paths, pinging, making, striking all colors never seen, crossing, drawn from people normally grazing grass turned brown, bored, lonely jolted awake by something worth seeing having never seen before!”

I loved the way he described it.

“Most of the time we steer ourselves along on rigidly separate flight paths,” he said.

“We are all far flung variables of differing spectrum with varying degrees of heat that would NEVER have crossed paths, becoming heat/light broken/arcing/tapping new rhythms, twisting smoke like colors never seen before, sparks and brief waves of light thrown into the void of all their dark spaces, the light of “being” allowed to exist if but for a moment, during the event that ends with people usually returning to their grazing.”

“They go back to their separate flight paths but with fundamental change.  Maybe startlingly singular unexpected conflagrations of attraction coming together such as these, reach into our genome level based on intensity,  the genome makes a recording of the event using stripes and numbers, the recordings are a measure of intensity.  They’re probably color coded constantly building, writing their own individual formulas, reflections of time and light twisting, building, building intent to reach some point in time to ‘build out’, anxious to accomplish the task or just doing what’s necessary to move about?”

“A recording of events totaling itself within the endless array of neural connections it has been branching off and growing,  we see evolution as a result.”

I must have looked perplexed so he explained, “Everybody every day has experiences that impact and startle them awake, that affect them on a fundamental level.  A split second after surprise comes the relief of being safe.  We laugh in relief that we are still alive.  People love to be scared at least momentarily.  It’s what we call ”funny” hahaha” … it’s a part of the primal instinct not to get eaten called, self preservation.”

“War is the most powerful experience bringing about change. Self preservation reduced to it’s fundamental opposition, boiled down to black hole level.  But war is no laughing matter.”

He loved the absurd humor of these startling, suddenly wide awake situations producing laughter in relief, the sight of people’s faces,  the startled first time behavior, the wide eyed, surprised looks, a brief return to childhood face, a re-creation of the 16 year old smile, faces dripping smooth then frozen in time with white teeth and sparkling eyes, adding color, filling in a few of the voids within,  awareness boiled down,  distilled and rendered into pure unadulterated laughter.”

He joked, “The opposite of war?   Haha ha ha ha …!”

Ergo Again


i’m torn 

in many 

wonder ways 

captive held

by scalding seas 

narrow channels  



surfeit ever

changing seasons 

finding mark/steady 

back against

chest walls

contact surface

shot to shit 

with sweet 



one single look of 

‘wonder why’ 


was it that or 

or simply 




spark !!!

breath alive ?





grains of sand 

fresh water 



new Light changing sight

no longer held 

captive … 

For tribalmysticstories: A Tribal Mystic Story; Poem For My Father

  • – Poem For My Father –

One day he took me to a copse of trees 

where we sat under a canopy of 

newly formed leaves  

above us a clear blue sky 

where he gave perspectives to me

different from anything I had 


Thoughts from the other side of

what we think we know.

How wind and leaves 

are not separate forces rather 

part of one single entity

connected to an infinity 

of larger and larger wholeness

stretching outward from 

the air we breathe,

beyond heat and light 

from the sun then, 

further into space and time until  

I saw myself in a world 

quite different than my own,

a world I’d never seen before, 

of single limitless form.  

He drew my attention to 

the random movements of 

the leaves

rising and falling, relentlessly 

shooting ‘round and ‘round,

limbs branches leaves and needles 

the grasses and saplings below 

touching one another 

sharing unique thought patterns 

not unlike the synapses 

of our brains though 

infinitely more complex,

not confined by 

the craniums of our skulls,

gathering awareness,

from earth and sky,

the mysteries of the world 

above and below spoken to them

content to accept all that is true

without conscious reflection.  

“Trees are the supreme creation of life along the continuum of awareness, free from all bonds, able to gather all knowledge from earth and sky and share with one another.”

I listened and within 

the silence of my mind 

heard leaves and limbs 

whispering to one another,

their voices rising and falling 

in concert with 

the wind, 

it seemed I was watching  

a playground of laughing children. 

He told me all root bound life 

the trees and even the grasses reach 

the tendrils of their minds, their 


into the planet where they feel 

the living vibrations of the earth and glimpse 

the secrets of life

“They know the stuff we struggle to understand.” he said.  “From the smallest particles outward, one long strip of awareness from where they are rooted, to the edge of the horizon and beyond, while we scurry about like ants grabbing pieces of sticks or crumbs of knowledge thinking how clever we are.’’

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 … !!!

Come 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 …..

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 … !!!

Come 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 Same Strange World

And so, he did. .. (go back to his room.)

He loved the absurdity of
these kinds of situations;
the startled first time behavior and
the look of surprise, like a kid finding
an agate in the sand
excitement, wide eyed, incredibly
amused at the absurdity,
a brief return to childhood wonder,
the disappearance of self characature
a re-surfacing of
the 16 year old smile,
faces dripping smooth then
frozen in time with
white teeth and sparkling eyes,
given color by their surprise,
a little extra light to
fill a few of the voids
past memories and such … boiling it all down distilled
rendered into unadulterated … laughter.


Purple Words

Purple Words –

One late Spring day, my students and I
walked to the Dairy Queen with

the thought in mind that we would
capture unique experiences and

write about them when we returned to
the class room.

After lunch, we formed a single file line
crossed Monroe Road to the sidewalk,

walked west for two blocks, past
the house I grew up in (at the end off Mackinaw Street) then,

along the north side of
the fence surrounding

the big athletic field where all
the games were played on Friday night and

past the town park where
I played and

ice skated
as a

While we walked I roamed from
the front to the back of

the line pointing out details that
their eight year old minds

might not

I told them to listen to
the sound of car tires rolling over
the blacktop.

While stopped, we heard
the distant moan of a diesel engine.

They thought that
the groaning engine was probably

working hard to push boxcars to
different places at the ‘’rail yard’’.

One girl said, maybe
the engine was pulling a

quarter mile long
train of


I pointed to the diverse shades of
green and the different shapes of

leaves on maple or elm trees.

When a breeze gusted past,
i asked them how

the breeze felt and
what words they would use to

describe the sound as it passed over
their ears.

After a while they began to
glimpse the world between

the lines

pointing  out things
I never would have noticed.

Five blocks from school
at a red and yellow blinking light,

we crossed over Monroe Road and
walked two blocks north to

the Dairy Queen where I bought
each student a chocolate or vanilla cone.

We ate our cones sitting under a
huge oak tree.

Leaned against the tree I looked around,

marveling at
the sweet innocence of

my eight year old students.

At the right moment
I spoke about some of

the unique objects, sounds and
thoughts we experienced

during our seven block journey.

I asked them to describe
what they saw, felt and heard.

Once they began sharing stories,
their experiences flowed out of them

like bright streams of light.

And so I watched and listened as
the sun born from winter into spring

shone through the budding leaves
dappling their faces with

ever changing patterns of light as they
spoke of discoveries taken from

the world around them.

Their thoughts were fluid and
bright; sunlight streaming through

the leaves  knitted them together into
a tapestry of sorts.

As the sun rose higher so did
the details of their remembrances.

The tapestry grew more complex and
beautiful as the light arched higher.

When it was time to
return to school,

I told them they were to walk silently so that
their story or poem, would be

different than everyone else’s.

Later, with pencils, brown school paper and
their visions I watched them silently write.

One by one, they brought their their
papers to me and as they did,

I read each story.

Every story was beautiful in
its own way.

Unique reflections of each student’s personality.

Their words were like beautiful
uncut gems, some

the color of rubies or emeralds.

Others vibrated with sound, were simple with quiet emotion or
restless, anxious to please,

listing every impression.

One piece stood out from
the rest.

Written in purple ink by
the shiest girl in class,

her ten line poem captured
the essence of

the entire journey.

At the end of the day I
looked back at the experience with

a clarity of detail I had
never experienced before.

That night when I had dinner with
my Dad he told me that

a lot of people in town saw me walking with
my students and many of them commented that

I looked like the Pied Piper … but of course
the gentle side of the Piper …

The Light Within For Rahul Gaur

The Light Within

I fixate on time constantly

When i hear the wail of a diesel horn
or smell fresh mown grass

or look out at the inland sea 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
moments 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;
‘’Within the within within.’’

The world revolving then revolving within the
revolving … deeper movement into the

allusion of stasis between where
more awareness lies waiting for me to see

into 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
inside, the sea within the

space between the blades of grass
where the fluoride and chlorophyl lies hidden

where tiny moisture droplets flood the subtle link between.

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

the mechanics of our lungs, the molecules of our
wakening selves … how could we breathe without

the breath that came before and before that?

Each breath remembers the heart beat
remembers the air within.

It’s all memory.

The planets revolve and
what’s beneath remembers what it knows

each experience resting upon the next.

A kaleidoscope of colors turning
twisting patterns and forms of light

creating new patterns and forms
from what came before connected

bleeding outward curling back to know
each moment of light filled memory.

The homes we live in
filled with memory of angles and

fittings and support from the dawn of creation;
cave man’s fire the furnace and the stove

memories from the dawn of time.
The modern stove a memory of the first fire given
to and to and to and

round and around the blocks are building
no different than walls or bridges or the spiral helix

past memories linking us all.

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


Pulls the memory from all things.


Is the road that memory drives on spilling outward
like a ripe orange.


You’re Crazy, She Said …

I thought I’d been making some headway patching things up with M. and JC.  But upon arrival they seemed stand offish.  I thought maybe things had taken a turn for the worse.

So, I kept my distance out of respect for their feelings.

Maybe the change in attitude had something to do with a conversation I had with JC while standing on the driveway in front of their house one late one afternoon a few days after the operation, when I told her that around midnight that first night in the hospital, crazy with pain, anesthesia and oxycontin I pulled the I.V. tubes out of my arm and used the food tray as a walker,  determined to escape from the hospital until the Charge Nurse a former Air Force pilot, convinced me to go back to my room.

JC listened with fascination, her mouth slightly open.

I heard myself saying words that made me look like a fool but it seemed some force kept pushing the words out.

Before I even finished I knew that, combined with all the other shit that had happened her attitude toward me would be totally changed.  Things would never be the same.

“You’re crazy!” she said.

I started to give some lame excuse when, “You’re crazy!”  She said it again.  A little louder, perhaps a touch of humor in her voice for, the beauty of JC lies in her ability to keep her sweet demeanor while seeing the world objectively at the same time.

We bonded quickly back when it all started.  I sensed her shyness so I gave her special attention.  I listened and asked asked questions because I was interested in the person she was.

I catered to her with Coke or tea or coffee or chips and salsa if she wanted.  I let her know that I was there to serve her.  It became a joke between us.

We had some enjoyable talks. She thought I was funny.  She had a great laugh; one of those “hair trigger” laughs.  We had some good laughs. I was flattered.

An easy going friendship evolved.  Being basically shy myself we were on occasion, each others excuse to get away from all the craziness inside.

One day there were a lot of people.  Things were hectic.  I went back to the gardens to be alone for awhile.  She must have needed to get away from the confusion of the crowd and seeing me gave her an excuse to escape.

And so she and Beck joined me in the shade of  an orange tree out back and we talked.

I showed them the empty nautilus snail shells I find along the canal that the raccoons suck dry, that I put on the concrete bench to bleach white in the sun.  I told them about the fractal nature that underlies every shape in the universe.  It keeps repeating itself over and over with every object in nature, the world, even the universe.  I don’t think they knew or cared about this crazy idea but that’s o.k.  It was ungodly hot outside.  They soon left.  But, I was touched that they were there in the first place.

I enjoy those memories.  I feel proud and a little special that JC, who is beautiful and admired by everyone,  was comfortable enough to separate herself from the crowd occasionally to pay me a visit ..  to talk and laugh.

For years the mutual warmth was a constant factor.   I smile now, thinking about it.  We shared some good laughter.  There were warm feelings too. I was always very proud of that fact.  I still am.

Things have changed.  Or not?  Only time will tell.  In the meantime, I miss them both.


My Single Desire To See

My single desire, to see more deeply!

Deeper sounds and color! Especially blue, purple, black night navy, the grays of afternoon light, atomic orange moon rising into night, raw gems discovered walking, sand beneath my feet each grain part of the whole extending outward into the depths.

Hidden visions within wind, unseen patterns beyond sight, woven threads  of gold, vibrations glimpsed, above one dimensional ripples on water’s surface.

To feel more deeply!

Desire creating hunger, need, passions pulling headlong gathering speed, a world behind closed eyes, spinning pleasures, sparking more light; perpetual motion feeding on itself/ourselves/themselves.

More light to see with!  Giving “more feelings” to KNOW what Love is!


To see!

Deeper sounds and colors behind the veil; soil between the blades, sand flecks, pinpoints of light mirroring stars at night, reflecting food for thought, draughts of sweet nectar to quench the thirst for knowledge.

Intoxicating ideas … creativity, sparking even more seen, than before.

More light to see?  More feelings have we!


Merged with light you’re here,

you’re there,

you’re everywhere,

free floating, flying free,

drawn into a world that

wants you as much as

you want


The Blue Light

Life is not the same/when absent/the Life that gives life Life.

The absence is the bad …

Daily works gets done/decisions are made/sometimes disharmony/fear/lack of truth/some laughter/big plans/this is what we call …

The absence …

The sharp knife goes dull without/the blue light that follows everywhere/the light of double vision/more light to see/more than only one can see …

More than enough light that two can see as one …

See the colors following like an aura or the Aurora Borealis/surges of magnetism/wrapped around charges/constantly changing/within separate forces/building color/with only one 

answer … 2 + 2 equals 1



… To know the how and why and when of it all .. The distinct impression that when something was seen/it held you speechless for the longest time/you couldn’t look away/you couldn’t get enough/you wanted more and more/the mystique was there/but you couldn’t put a name to it/you were so young/you didn’t have the words/emotion drove the moment/in complete silence and pure feeling you were drawn …….

….. Who knows what it is that captures the moment so completly?/the coordinates of magnetic forces?/something about movement through time and space?

….. The answer blows in the wind/with the seeds of time/the seeds of Life carried within/through gales and storms/it wrestles with the windows or brings in sunlight on a beautiful day/over sand and water over villages and plain/over metropolis splendor/and degradence …. We are blown by the trial and tribulations/twisting and turning through the storms/round and around within
the chaos/then thrown out/

Onto a sunlit shore ..

The Crane III: Revisited

… that it would … rise up and up effortlessly higher and higher flying free over clouds of air; wind clouds they can see that we earth bound beings could never even imagine.

images I moved slowly, cautiously until we stood motionless next to each other.  I sensed a strangeness about its lack of movement, as if it was in a trance.  I looked closer into its eye, the iris a thin orange/blood red ribbon surrounding the the pupil so large it nearly filled its entire eye socket, a dark black pool without a flicker of life.

I had hoped to see some sign of awareness.  Something that would tell me it wasn’t dead or dying when suddenly it broke out of its trance.

It’s pupil flickered, a spark of sunlight reflected off the black pool.  Its iris contracted, the dark pool grew smaller until it found a focal point.

Its eye tracked from place to place over my face feeling bewildered perhaps by my curious movements, the soft shapes and colors of my face, the black pool of my awareness filling his field of vision so different from its  everyday world spent gliding high, looking down at ponds and streams, wading through water searching … always searching to satisfy the hunger that gives life meaning … the desire to live.

Suddenly I knew it was alive! It had awareness! I felt a link between our searching ever curious minds.

continued …

images-2seen before extrodinaire …

Overheard At the Mall One Day: Funny Shoes, Miles of Smiles, Craftsman Skill Saws, She Cracks Him Up .. The End

Was the Harley guy good looking too. Whoops, I hate those pony tails on grown men.

images-1Suddenly you realize the world is back to normal. People are walking by. You’re standing with this guy having a friendly conversation. The guy reaches over, touches your arm and says, ‘’You have a nice face.” You’re caught off guard again. You don’t know what to say.  He turns as he walks away says, ‘’But I don’t know about your taste in shoes.”  He’s grinning ear to ear.  He gives you one of those little side to side kid waves.  Then, he’s gone.

I was hoping he’d walk down to Sears with me to buy a Craftsman skill saw that was on sale that day … ..

I bet you’ve always wanted a circular saw, haven’t you?

Hey man … you live in your world, I’ll live in mine.

But the guy was me!

Well ok. Hey! When you’re done talking, do you want to drive over to Sears with me? I hear there’s a sale on tools …

You crack me up.

Pause … thinking …

The End …


Overheard At the Mall One Day In Front of Starbucks … continued …

continued … The guy gets a big kick out of himself doesn’t he? 

Let’s just say this guy loves it when the ordinary world turns upside down.

Pause … So what happens next?

Suddenly time stops. It seems like no one is paying attention anymore.  People are like blurs or streaks of color passing by.  That half of your world has just dropped away but it doesn’t really matter since you don’t need it in this new world anyway.  It’s almost like you’re living inside one of those snow globes.  The world is swirling around while you and the characters in your world are stationary.

Sounds like I’ve been seduced because the situation is so ‘ridiculoso’ …

Then, for some reason, you start to laugh. You realize there’s something incredibly ridiculous about the whole situation.  It’s so out of the ordinary.  So unique for you.  And you have this super awareness!  Which you love!  You look at the guy you bumped into.  There’s  something about his face.  Or his laugh. Or both.  It’s so honest. Spontaneous.  It seems like he’s telling you the truth about the absurdity of life without saying a word.  Maybe he set the whole thing up for your enjoyment. Like it all was SUPPOSED to be funny and you’re just going along with the flow … like you’re in a Saturday Night Live routine making it up as you go along.

pause … wull,  it’s pretty obvious you’re not in the same world anymore isn’t it?

Cool!  I’m an astronaut on the Planet Mall, right?  continued … 

So, when the guy picks up the broken shoe he looks up at the Harley guy and says ….. 

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

white lines, broken swales far out,

a mile or more that I see

stretching parallel below the horizon line

static electricity, water’s upheaval

crackling along it’s edge.


Waves rise …  6 – 7 – 8 feet tall

begin their descent,

fingers reaching downward

the swale below, drawn up and over

curving downward wide and fat they break

wrapped around air trapped inside the curl.  

Streaks of gray and white and sandy green

lines of colors rolling forward.


Rushing toward the shoreline their power spent

a never ending conversion; glacial boulders reduced in size to rock,

stone, pebble then sand each grain a tiny piece of what was once

a mighty seed within earth’s core.


 With so much majesty and power what exactly IS the Great Lake?

What primal force drives her?

Could she be alive?


 I look with wonder, amazement,

deep affection and awe

at all that she has given me.


 A chance to gaze beyond the shadow of life,

a glimpse at the incomprehensible,

the world and all that it can be

far beyond what we can see.


 She’s here to remind us that

we are but a single grain of sand

one small part of

the eternal

mystery …

Where Love Is All There Is to See

Sunlight peeks through trees

shadows of hearts and leaves

dawn’s light exploding

gives birth to morning breeze

love calls within the senses


we see what we can and cannot see

alive within the senses each day

new stories, unseen awareness

too close or too far away

a mote of dust seen passing by

planets on distant planes

fuscia color on canvas never the picture seen

unknown worlds beyond the seas

light colors blending grey then black and white again perpetually

reflections on a moonless night seen rising

the world above turned below


we see what we can and cannot not see

too close or far away

planets on a distant plane

pictures never seen.


The world we’re in.

we live within the senses

where love and only love

is all there is

to see





















THAT’S ALL .. !!




Space In Linear Time

I can’t remember what happened yesterday

but i can tell you every detail about growing up …


I lived within the light,

connected to flowing creek water, golden

wheat fields, sour cherries, apple fights,

imaginary pirate ships in the trees,

races, games and laughter …


i moved 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 night sleep

when its rays bleed into my dreams like wispy smoke and

i see the light of two

suns …

Astounding Beauty 

I watch within my sight held brightly

the light inside my mind …


i move about the other worlds

that live and breathe inside …

to other places and times

the wind upon my face …


no need to scatter far and wide

in search of other worlds to see …

no thought of time and space …

those worlds reside inside of me,

i take them for the asking …


i use them joyfully …

 i drink them as a thirsty sponge …

while wondering about

the stars at night …

or if a man on the moon

can see my tiny light


brightly …

It All Happened That Night III

I told her I wasn’t really trying to be rude which didn’t seem to satisfy her at all so i said it again, hoping she’d understand!

But she didn’t.

She got mad as hell!

“I hate that Dick … !!” she said.  “He’s so goddamn irresponsible!”

I noticed she was looking over my shoulder at the bright lights of the lodge.

I could see that glint she gets in her eyes when she thinks there’s a bar within reach.

“What are you looking at?”  i asked.

She said she was sorry she was so mean.

“You weren’t being rude!” she said.   “But i still think it’s your fault!”

“Truth of the matter is,” she said, “I wasn’t paying attention to a word you said!”

Pause …

“I had other things on my mind!”

continued …

It All Started That Night

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, “Well, that’s what i’m talking 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 !  For christ’s sake they’re the last people i want to see on a night like this!”

My Tears … To Rest


i picked up the

phone …

i needed to talk …

i began to speak …


i searched through the years …

I spoke words through tears …

i felt the times of my despair …

i explored my world of pain …

i crept through time

 never sure i’d find my

way …

i backtracked through the intricacies of turmoil and rusted thought …

lost morality  …

 i saw chunks of fallen plaster … the

missing pieces of my

dreams …


then i heard

the silence of

my mind …


after hanging up

i walked away from the places i had

never really seen

toward the place i never left behind …

where i laid my tears to

rest  …

Life Laid Fallow the Fruit of Time Discovered


Songs of life gone by

emerging from fallow fields of time

can wash over our senses with

sudden force …

… forgotten fragments born from rolling marble colors brightly seen, once familiar faces, stored emotions that come alive …

when least expected …  


perplexed … we ask …

how could dreams of such

remembered splendor …

the driving force of passion born anew, the scent of lover’s neck recalled, first pleasure felt when senses came alive  

pass by so unseen?


some thoughts come to mind

with sad regret …

the precise moment when

playful eye’s appeal once given was

stolen from sight

by random sound come

crashing by

never to return … 

the seed that planted

could have yielded

life’s sweetest

fruit …


precious moments remembered

with sad regret are like

specks of golden pollen

drifting clear against a blue sky or

points of light seen wandering

among stars in the

darkest hours of the

night …

A Day In the Life … V

decided not to go to Wall Mart to exchange the water purifier and furnace filter until later so …  

maybe i’ll just mess around with the mower to see if i can fix it so i don’t have to buy a new one … i’m torn now … should i go outside, get some fresh air and work on the mower or stay here, take some measurements and weigh the magazine rack so i can get them both posted to ebay?  … or, maybe i should just keep writing because that’s what i really want to do anyway ….. 

so, there it is …. my day … a day in the life of one person … it hasn’t been a BAD day … fairly normal by my standards … i have to go out for food later … i have to go to WAL mart to exchange that stuff i bought but i hate to shop at Wal mart for food (even though they have better produce)  or go to Neiman’s because they have great bagels  .. i figure i’ve got plenty of time to make a decision … meanwhile i’ll type and maybe in a few minutes i’ll know whether to go work on the mower ..  i guess i’ll try to post at least one item then go to Wal mart AND go to Neiman’s … but i have no idea what i want for dinner  … not another bag dinners please !!  but what???  

well …  like i said .. it’s been fairly normal … i hope you all have had a healthy happy day full of wonder and surprise and magic moments and the feeling of accomplishment .,.. if that’s something that turns you on …  i hope you love and were loved and i hope you read a great book or learned a lesson in life … maybe had an epiphany about something and this is what i want for everyone reading this for i love you all and i am astonished by you reading these words and my heart is full but most of all i hope you laughed and laugh and will laugh and laugh and laugh … ks

The End Of A Day In the Life ,,,,, 

A Day In The Life IV

continued …. some barn shots to put in the barn file …then i said … fuck … i’ve got to take a shower and get the hell out of here …


 … so finally i took a shower … and got dressed … i wanted to go out but i looked at that sunburst mirror, remembered i hadn’t taken the measurements then i looked over at that great vintage bentwood magazine rack … shit …, i’d better get these fakers posted on ebay … when i picked up the magazine rack that was on the couch … i noticed a few tiny little mice turds on the cushions … son of a bitch … ! i took all the cushions off set them aside, got the flashlight to see if the little fuckers had maybe made a nest in there … they hadn’t but i had to vacuum up the tiny little turds … there weren’t that many and it was no big deal but … wull jeeze … little mice turds??…….. i decided to keep moving forward … ! … i needed the dimensions of the starburst mirror to determine shipping costs …  looked for the tape measurer but i couldn’t find it so i went to the computer … (going to the computer is my ‘default’) as soon as a blank space enters my mind i’m pulled to it) ! … i sat there thinking for a minute then, went to the blog site … i read that Little Monster Girl (  said it was ok for me to use her name in the title of the piece i posted … she said she thought it was cool … so, whew … i didn’t want to offend her by assuming i could just use her name … so now i’m stuck sitting here … i decided not to go to Wall Mart to exchange the water purifier and furnace filter until …..

continued …

Third and Nine … The Rise And Fall Of Civilization


I watched them at recess one day from  behind the glass windows that ran the length of the classroom.  …..

Several boys worked together to build a snowman. They built it so quickly! Recess was only half over when they finished.


Once finished they grew disinterested.  They didn’t know what to do but, once a couple of the boys started throwing snowballs at the girls, they all joined in.


The girls screamed and ran away delighted at the sudden attention being paid to them.


A few snowballs found their targets, exploding in the middle of their backs.


One girl tripped and fell, her face imbedded in the snow.  I heard peals of laughter vibrate through the double pane glass.


Snow covered the girl’s face.  Then a moist black hole appeared where she spit the snow away while at the same time, two black dots at the top of her face … her eyes … appeared.


The boys pointed at her laughing.  The girls stood off to the side, mittens in their mouths to hide their smiles .. maybe control their laughter.


One boy fell down rolling around in the snow laughing.


It looked like a live snowgirl had been created with living black coal for her eyes and mouth.


With what little time that was left before the bell rang, I watched four boys attack and destroy the snowman they had built earlier.


How interesting,  I thought.  It seemed that in fifteen minutes, I had witnessed a model for tens of thousands years of warfare; construction, destruction, the death of innocents and even the symbolism of rape.


I thought to myself, “Maybe warfare is a part of who we are.  When will it ever end?”

I shook my head from side to side.


Then I decided another great secret had been revealed.  I realized that perhaps by the end of the school year, I would learn more about life from my students than they would from me.

Or at least it would be an equal exchange.

Third and Nine To Go .. How I Learned More Than My Students When I Was A Third Grade Teacher

robert_kerr_schoolI never would have imagined I’d  be a third grade teacher at the same elementary school I attended as a kid, until one day toward the end of summer after I graduated, I heard there was an opening at the school for a third grade teacher.


I figured why not?  I wasn’t working and my B.S. degree had to be worth something, didn’t it?


How strange it felt being interviewing by the same principal who gave me permission to bring a live raccoon to school way back in fifth grade.


What was even stranger was, finding myself in the teacher’s lounge eating Weight Watchers salad with my fourth, fifth and sixth grade teachers.


 I was taken aback by the innocent beauty of those thirty pairs of eight year old eyes looking at me with complete adoration my first day in the classroom.


 I figured my students must have thought I was more like one of them compared to the other teachers, most of whom were matronly one room country school house teachers who came in from from the surrounding countryside to teach at the new school.


Not being an Education Major, I gave my students what little I knew about teaching.  I taught by example. But I had great examples growing up.


All of those elementary school teachers I had lunch with, taught grades K-6 every day in those one room school houses.


So, I grew up being taught by master teachers.

continued …

 P.S. By the way that picture is the school I taught at!  Robert Kerr Elementary School … fancy that … . ks

Lake Dreams


When i was was a boy

I spent summers along the northern shoreline of


on a point of land wrapped around a fresh water bay …

where I had the freedom to

roam the sandy beaches

camp out among the dunes

explore the pine woods 


search through cat tails in tannin colored ponds

 for …

all sorts of life … !


I fished for perch and small mouth bass

off the end of the Coast Guard dock

stretched 100 yards into bay waters ..

at the same spot where my Dad learned to fish

when he was a boy .. !


I swam in the cool fresh water of the Great Lake

whenever and wherever I chose to …

diving into the waves, rising and falling,

my hands skimming the ridged sandy bottom

mimicking waves above me …


During summer storms


countless fingers sent giant white caps

 crashing against the shore

the northern wind would lift me up into the trees

where I was absorbed into pine scent,

yellow pollen, poplar leaves and

curling birch paper …


At night when soft waves lapped against the shoreline

I became the sounds of the lake

in concert with the trees

and lake’s whispered words,

a chorus of unspoken thought

wrapped in glacial water and

ancient life

the hush of night secrets …


 When I melted into summer sand …

joined with the grains,

the rush of waves,

the blue black night with stars


orange moon on the horizon,

the lights on the distant shore,

the unseen green of another reality ..

the great lake came alive within me

and my


filled the

sky …

Bright Night Revealed


It seemed that as contrast deepened

i could see more clearly subtle and great beauty

buried within the world around me …

… and

it seemed like

the more beauty i saw

the more distinct and easy it was to

see  …


… so i looked more deeply


 discovered beauty trapped within

degradation and loss …


when i became aware …

beauty was set

free …


it seemed i was


a contest of wills


absorption and freedom


knowledge and lack of unawareness between

light and darkness …


i wondered …

if beauty and light

would always be threatened by the

brutal loneliness of

the dark … ?


will they travel forever as two parallel

lines … ?


…  or, does light have a


while darkness waits for

light to fill its

void … ?

  perhaps the driving force behind every creative act is


light blown outwards

will fill the darkest

coves …


… perhaps when


trapped within the rape and annihilation of darkness …

is set free …

the mystery of darkest nights

beauty …

will finally be

revealed …

Fire In the Sky, Nuclear Moon, Space and Time: from Summer Light Grown Full … Daytime Light Darkness Infinity

Fire In The Sky …

… somewhere in the distance rises up fire, a gentle reminder, the slow burn .. light extinguishing or coming alive or just another day gone by .. we scratch or heads in wonder but we’ll never know the reason for all that is shown … fire burning toward light or slowly extinguished it’s all the same can’t you see …, ?


Nuclear Moon

… one night exploding over the line into our world taken by surprise, stark contrast … fire on the horizon, sends us running for our eyes to see, unafraid of  knowing … believing but not sure if we’d sustain ourselves long enough to capture  …

… fire on the horizon, tempered water … brothers in mild moderation … two beasts potential brought within limits .. the space between polar opposites a mist of noise … nuclear moon … it rises with furnace glare, immense with fear the great beastly eye then soft and gentle it moves along its way  …


Space and Time

… space and time and light is all there is .. within it everything lies .. along the great journey nuclear moon’s gentle beast … silent beauty fills in all Life’s

Places …

Summer Light Grown Full … Taken From: Night Ice Shades Varying Mood Intensity Daytime Light Darkness Infinity


… Daylight splendor a rainbow of earth tones

liberating depths of secrets for us to dwell on,

shallow water then deeper and deeper secrets revealed,

subtle vibrations of light mingle then

bear witness to themselves … defined …

set free for short spans of beauty …

time between the cold of night seasons …

alive with clarity giving sight …


make no mistake about it ..

summer time is

light collected …

To Summer Boy

images copy 36

 I had the ultimate freedom of every boy

during summers but only after

work was done …

so I worked every day for at least an hour


ranging freely about town from

in search of other boys congregated,

looking for one more player

to round out an even number

for a game of tackle football

or …

 I rode to my best friend’s house

where we

met up and headed outside town

two or more miles over black top and gravel roads

past open fields to creek water flowing under

the wooden bridge where I

searched through its gravel bed …

… flecked with pieces of mica

flashing golden in the sun …

for anything living that I could

hold in the palms of my hands

my eyes boring deeper and deeper into life’s details

until it seemed I could almost see the

light within …

Life … Knowledge

 … content to accept all that is true without conscious effort, a part of the whole, absorbing through their finger tips … all there is to know … continued …

Unknown-1“Trees are such marvelous beings aren’t they?” he said.  “The supreme creation of Life, along the continuum of awareness, free from all bonds, able to gather all knowledge from the earth and sky then share it with one another.’’

‘’Look at the movement of the limbs!’’

We watched the patterns of movement different than the leaves yet joined together connected, waving at the world or punching each other in playfulness forming even more patterns laughing or even guffawing with the wind, its half brother/sister in shared partnership.

We listened and through the silence of our minds …  we heard the hiss of the leaves and wind, we watched the waving limbs patterned against the blue sky as laughter from a playground of children.

Then He told us how they reach the tendrils of their minds  … their roots … into the soil where they feel the vibrations of the planet and they know what they are hearing, they understand the language of the earth, they know the Truths of life the truths of the universe from the smallest particles outward.  One long strip of awareness from where they are rooted to the edge of the horizon and far beyond.

“They know the stuff we struggle to understand,” he said, “plus an infinity of knowledge more, while we scurry about like ants grabbing pieces of sticks or crumbs of knowledge left over from a picnic,  all the while thinking how supreme we are …. .”

Life … Knowledge …

This is one of my favorite pieces I’d like to share with my new readers … and re-share with those who have been so faithful and tolerant of me for some time now …  with gratitude for all your kind thoughts and actions … ks 


One day He took us to a copse of trees where we sat under a canopy of newly formed leaves beneath a clear blue sky where He gave perspectives different than any we had learned: thoughts on the “other side” of what we thought we knew …

He showed us how trees and their green leaves dance with  the wind not as separate entities rather, they are part of a larger whole with awareness stretching outward through the air we breathe then further into sun’s light and beyond even into space and time …

And we began to “see” the movements and hear the hissing of the wind passing through the moving leaves as one very large thought; and we found ourselves in the midst of a world we had never seen or felt before …


He pointed to the random patterns of the leaves within the hissing sounds of motion created by the wind ever changing … rising and falling, shooting ‘round and ‘round connected to each other with endless patterns of unique thoughts not unlike the patterns of our minds though without limit, more complex, more far reaching, not confined by the craniums of our skulls, free to gather new awareness, taking from reality the mystery of the world above and below the earth made real far, far beyond the wind and the air we breathe, able to understand the connection of sun’s rays then further … content to accept all that is true without conscious effort, a part of the whole, absorbing through their finger tips … all there is to know …

continued …

Purple Words

the tapestry became  more complex and beautiful as sun’s light arched higher and higher … continued … 


 … returning to


i had them

 walk in silence …


ponder their



thoughts and

sensations …



with pencils,

brown school paper and their


i watched them


write …


their words formed   




some the color of 

rubies or

emeralds …


vibrated with 





quiet emotion


restless …

anxious to please

listing every 

impression … !


one piece stood out

from the 

rest …   

written in purple ink

by the

shiest girl in class


ten line poem 


the essence 

of the entire 

journey … 


at the end of the



looked back on our


with a 


of thought  

never experienced

 before …  


later that night 

… while having dinner with my 

Dad …

i was told 


people in town

had seen



… my students quietly trailing behind …  


a couple of people said 


reminded them of


pied piper …

Purple Words

After a while they began to/glimpse the world between the/lines … pointing to things I/would never have/noticed … continued …

images-6 Five blocks from 

school at a 

red and yellow 

blinking light


crossed over the 



continued walking

two blocks


to a 

Dairy Queen

where i bought each of them

chocolate or vanilla 

cone … 


We ate our cones sitting

under a 


oak …  


Leaned against the 

tree I marveled at the 

sweet innocence of my 

eight year old 

students … 


At the right moment 


spoke of the unique


sounds and 



experienced along our 

seven block 

journey … 


i asked them to 


what they 

saw, felt and 

heard … 


Once they began sharing


their thoughts





bright streams of 

light … 


And so …..

watched and 

listened as a 


born from winter into spring 



budding leaves

dappling their 


with ever changing 

patterns of 


while they spoke of  


taken from separate 

worlds … 

and …

their thoughts were 



bright …

and …

sunlight streaming through

the leaves  

knitted their words and 


into a


and …

as the 

sun rose


details of their 


grew …

and …

the tapestry became  more 

complex and


as sun’s light


higher and 

higher …

continued … 

Purple Words

– For Frausto –

(Amy Debby)


One late Spring day, my 

students and I 

walked to the 

Dairy Queen with the 

thought in mind that we would 

capture unique experiences and 

write about them when we 

returned to the class 

room … 


After lunch, we formed a 

single file line crossed the 

road to the



west for two blocks, past the 


where i was

born … 


We continued 

along the north side of the 

fence surrounding the big 

athletic field

(where the Friday night

Varsity games



 past the town park where

played baseball


ice skated as a 

boy … 


While we walked I

roamed from the 

front to the 

back of the line

pointing to 


their eight year old minds

might not

notice  … 


I told them to 

listen to the 

sound of car 

tires rolling over the  blacktop 


While stopped, we heard the 

distant moan of a 

diesel engine … 


They thought the groaning 

engine was probably 

working hard to push



different places at the 

‘’rail yard’’


to the big 

“Round House” … 


One girl said, 


the engine was pulling a 

quarter mile long

train of 

boxcars … 


I pointed to the diverse 

shades of green and the different 





maple and 

elm trees … 


When a


gusted past i asked them 

how it felt


what words they would use


describe the sound as it 

passed over their 

ears … 


After a while they began to 

glimpse the world between the 

lines … 

pointing to things I 

would never have 

noticed …

continued … 



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 an eleven year old 

boy 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 

past  …


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 …

continued …


 Thrown out shit, ridiculous, almost worthless works combined into one stupid, bullshit and not a LITTLE fricking  brilliant (at times) collection of; poems, incomplete thoughts and ideas .. very brief stories all told in the most esoteric way.


images copy 28

(It’s all so esoteric … )

Another epic poem in the

life of the world that 

never was that

came and went 

unknown but real in its 


Another learning experience of the deepest 

nature within a world of rejection.

Another irony, another, 

oxymoron, so characteristic of life. 

For those unaware of choice and awareness … another 

conundrum of wonder and fear and 

approach/avoidance conflicts the final consequence between … 

unfinished life and ….

Life Unfinished …  

It so esoteric! It’s

 Esoterica … !