The Agony and the Ecstasy III


Wondering About the Glory 

One day during the golden hour at the end of the day mulling things over while feeding bread to the turtles I wondered, what will it be like to simply keep the gates open and let the water flow when the bladder wants it to flow all natural like?  

In other words, what will letting myself pee as soon as I feel the urge, without giving it a second thought,  be like?  Will it be liberating?  

The Third Leg

There’s a third element that fits into all these revelations I’ve been having.  

I can’t help but feel frustrated with everybody always being pissed off like you’re pissed off or I’m pissed off and she’s pissed off or he’s pissed at her and everybody’s pissed at somebody while some are pissed at everybody!  When this girl, the only intelligent person in the whole group, spoke out saying, “But don’t you realize?  It’s so much better to be pissed off than it is to be pissed on!”

 The room got quiet then everyone started clapping and agreed.  She really put everything into perspective for me.  In other words,  we should be thankful for what we have instead of lamenting what we DON’T have because often what you wish for is ten times worse than what we already HAVE.”  

A Similar Razzle 

That comment about being pissed off reminded me of a similar razzle that occurred one day when I had a fleeting conversation with this guy in new York way back in the mid seventies when I mentioned I dreaded having dinner with my in laws.  The guy got real serious, came a little closer and in the softest matter of fact tone looked around and said, ‘Let me give you some good advice.”  He looked around again, locked his eyes onto mine and said, ” It’s a lot better being with your in laws than it is being with your outlaws.” 

Boy howdy, did that ring a bell with me!    

continued …

They Call It Turtle Cove


..  They Call It Turtle Cove ..

What I’ve been doing?

I’ve been

working on my dock 

terracing slopeland for

boxed steps made from

two by fours carved and set

into canal soil with

aloe plants showcased ’round 

boxed, steps, leading down to 

shoreline dock I built 

at water’s edge where

looking into 

canal water  

through water’s window from

where we stand see

tiny fish and 

many turtles, a baby gator one day!

The fishing line with 

rod and reel 

stands over there 

waiting for the time

when young hands learn

to use it. 

..  Sight Breaker Heart Breaker ..

I built a 

‘sight breaker’ to 

hide natures pile of debris 

I add to constantly at the 

back corner of the 


the fronds of palm and banana, slash pine 

needles, fair size limbs, nice looking pine cones from 

fifty feet pines , 

(squirrels who feed on 

pine nuts hardly ever seen), 

I either burn just for fun or use to 

fuel more s’mores for Becky.   

I mulch the needles with the mower and 

spread them fine 

among the aloes, ferocious foes appearing yet 

most beautiful healing plant in fearsome disguise  

a helpful friend 

that I adore.    

I put them around the pines  

along the paths aligned 

designed with rip rap in mind

the best way to hold the soil

you’ll find them where 

sandy soil needs support, holding it in place 

by various means from many sizes 

calcified shells of limestone each piece heavy with  

Its own density at work within 

whatever space it occupies, steady and

strong but

not very 


..  I Tried To Make Soil One Day ..

I tried to make soil one day at the 

corner of the yard that 

leads on down to the 

canal where there’s debris  I 

I call it my compost heap

which, is a lie.

One day I carved out an eight by eight plot,

threw down some black dirt and cow manure 

staked it out with four by fours and repurposed two by fours thinking I’ll 

make my own soil from scratch, with 

lots of organic materials, I’ll gather and choose from this 

jungle in disguise I live in and 

make it located exactly where  

 I discard all my 

yard debris.  (killing two birds with 

one stone?!)

I try to make it look nice and 

generally succeed.

(I don’t think you can even see it!)

So I don’t think anybody really 

gives a shit.   

Except those who are bothered by the 

Word and nothing more since 

no matter how you look at it 

it’s still called 

Yard waste!   

..  On the Dock/Arctic Winds ..

On the dock at times I find the 

peace I’m looking for the 

wind and trees joined as one 

a gift I feel from 

 Arctic winds blown in from

Arctic north

where I come from (and

would rather be)

up there in that north country

where those air filled Arctic winds come

nicely heated along the way

their freezing gusts tempered by their

rush to blow all the way down here.

How often I feel them?  Not nearly enough.

I wish I’d feel those air filled breezes  

down here more often.

… Summer …

In Summer air most often down here dockside

I see

canal water standing still,

reflecting white light from above

I see

heat air water rising steaming upward

reflecting white sun above,

canal water raining upward all day!


 coming down again and


day after day after

day …

We call it Turtle Cove … 

Savoring the Melt

Snow covering the ground at 8 by 1 had


By 5 newly formed powder flakes/bigger than cotton balls/floated downward, /so light they rose and fell a second time/as I passed /turning my world white

once again

crystal flakes given form/from clouds high above/each its own and unique world/alive within the tiny gales/and silent currents forming/atmospheres above, 


gentle revolution, softest landing covering ground/like thin gauze stretched/within minutes inches deep/earth tones and/ green luminescence vaguely visible


Above, afternoon sky darkening /moves toward night time light.  

Already giving their precious gift, the gauze stretched thinner/

shadows of color emerging from the




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

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


With Thanks To Emily Dickinson



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 were gnats and mosquitos and other tiny things – i can’t imagine – sharing the same air that a week ago – floated crystals of lace like water – light wings – each a drifting masterpiece – floating down or streaming sidewise – within 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 –

Now – shared with all the little things – that come alive in spring –

My life more complicated now – no longer distraction free – avoiding their lines of intersection – between the search for whatever they’re searching for – inside the air i’ve been breathing in – 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 within 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 – holding captured cold stillness within their sleeping spaces – during gestation’s time to lie in wait – released when warm sun returns to free the life within those 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 – they’ve stolen my serenity !

I Wasn’t Even Trying To Be Funny … (is it 6 or 7? oh! … sorry!)

– 6 –

… when that wall of sound washed over me me it 

knocked my head straight back … 

don’t they call that the G note, 

or something like that … ?


 (that’s not me …)

 what’s funny is … 

I wasn’t even trying to be  

funny … ! 


 it was one of those moments when i found myself 

unconsciously being completely 

honest … ! almost like I was having an 

out of body experience … !

spontaneous, innocent  honesty is so 

hard to find these days … !!

 because it’s so rare … so totally unexpected  …  

it makes people laugh … ! 


wull … what’s even funnier still is, … 

looking back i see myself  continuing to 

ponder the question … !! .. !  

(… why WAS the telephone invented … ?)

 maybe Alexander Graham Bell was trying 

to figure out a way to let his servants know

it was time to bring the soup 

to the dining room upstairs …? 


maybe he didn’t even know what the 

damn thing would be used for … he just knew 

someone ELSE was trying to invent one 

and HE wanted to be first … !


 therefore …

 how could ANYONE really 

KNOW why the telephone was invented … ?  


i knew those three women had absolutely no idea 

that the question had taken on

such ridiculously high  

philosophical dimensions to me …

and i damn sure wasn’t going to give them 

even an inkling of 

what I was thinking … 

… continued …


Who Cares What Reality Is When Its Domain Is Never Clear … ?


… I walked north along the 

Great Lake shoreline …  grey rain fell across my sight

great lake’s water breathing slow and steady to my right

a world of night caps dimly lighted

moving toward the night …


Where raindrops fell ..

pin pricks of water rose upon return … the  

children of the rain …

each drop to take its place within the sky …

seen white against pale blue on best of days …

orange and gray at sunset …

roiling with dark gray/black underbelly in stormy reflection …

or hiding among trees until the time is right  

stretching wings before flight …

An endless exchange …


On this day no demarkation between

water and darkening grey  … except its bristly surface 

waiting to explode

with silent

rising …


Pale green grasses grew sparse among sandy hills …

west of where i walked …..

Behind the dunes further west on risen ground

tall pines grown in darker soil

(… first cousins twice removed from the fresh water sea … )

stood waiting for new life to be

revealed  …


 She’s The Great Lake on the eastern shoreline … a living entity … !


When she breathes swells rise up …

heaving giant life flexing muscles …

her water grown larger

until exploding into white caps

each wave torn

asunder …


Or she laps her waves silently with gentle kisses

against the shoreline at night …


She’s my friend since childhood innocence

when I wandered into her

world …

A steady hand I’ve played within

on many days … held within her grasp

allowed to peek through windows 

into her glacial past …


She’s always beautiful but even more so

when she lets her fury reign,  returning to Primordia

with perfect remembrance and violent splendor  …

 her purest self …

 … a return from hence she came …


Among visions held within my mind that night

a dozen or more sights alive within my

Light … to places where  time was small

with purest boyhood memories … where

with sun and single pleasure i moved from

place to place … seeking different orbits …

better places to see,

to move and turn about

to look upon her

face with

wonder …

a return from hence I came … !


Light stained against the sky of thought

suspended in time …

hovered over each ‘place’ …

waiting to be seen …  perfect prizes captured

to live in momentarily

the place from

hence I came

returned …


Great Lake’s rain returning to sky for future retrieval …

the light of days re-mingled …

a return from hence I came … ?


Where lies reality is when 

its domain is never clear … ?


Light shining … taken in like air to a newborn child …

thoughts that flicker in and out 

like waves along the shoreline of the

purest water/sea replacing one another 

ad finitum … to where  it’s all assembled 

anyway …



Green Luminescent Mystery/River of Ice from Night Ice Shades Varying Mood Day Time Light …


Green Luminescent Mystery …

… the world behind a veil of unseen mystery, another dimension beyond our fingertips, below the surface of our eyes, the glow of life born of plant and sun, left over light noise from sun’s creation, the big bang of the plant world, creation below the iceberg tip of living green, giving breath to life … green luminescent luminosity … our dearest friend …

 River of Ice …

… the borderline thread between world static and flowing, the meandering journey of time, this river of sourcefulness, stretching to points beyond … water in its manifestations most basic … liquid or solid … moving or static .. sun’s gift of life … water … the source … great amniotic fluid, the white veil of humanity … ice below the surface layered in continuum next to the green veil of other life … the two in love with each other …