We choose the starling over the rooster, the apricot over the plum. In sum the tastes of one are from long striving to understand what composes an identity to fill out as your own. There are paintings I “enjoy” though I know not why. The compatibility of vision is perhaps unknowable. Describe this wine without…

Let me see you dive. Call Friday if you have a clue. Liquid refreshments arrive & peace reigns. Nonflammable renovations hover outside. I ponder where this goes in the stream of flings. What to choose & when arrives. Outside the cosmos wink at us. Plastic cups are filled & the party continues.  No way out…

1. Lists help us break up time. Before the list is disorder, chaos. After the prioritizing is done comes purpose, a sense of fulfillment at least if life is a set of things to do. I have walked a long way to get to here pausing for libation in all its variety. 2. The farmers’…

We are rogues in the gallery of ever more darkening whys. All humdrum & piddle-paddle we rattle, prattle on ’til dusk. The orchard of time’s diminishing venue has dropped its fruit at our feet. We plaster the pictures on the wall. Judge not until you heed the call. Line up. You have a number. When…

(remember a haiku consists of three lines with five syllables, seven, then five) Earth Haiku Husbandry is due to bring our sacred earth through, fix mistakes renew Mothers haiku Mothers nurture us with a purpose plus they re- furbish forever Hermit haiku Oh, look at this world I’d rather knot my brow in sage rage…

The way things are in this declining empire and our thoughts that transpire about the rules & “choices” that we have are not our own. They are the products of those who control all that is around us. When you live mentally inside a cage it is hard to see “outside thinking.” “What profit a…

When you are mad at yourself, who is mad at whom? The perfectionist berates the lesser achiever.  The clumsy at heart seeks the suavity of the dresser of presentations, honing his part. Some continue to go over the past and its hall of mirrors.  Even now we observe as in a badly synchronized movie, always…

“After” refers time to subtle degrees: an artificial breach of forever in which we are contained if only as compost for what is to come.

We process the known day thru the filter of verbiage making mulch of real events not recalled because memory holds only the wisps that do not blow away from lack of context.

Next to the bathroom sink is a small picture of Christ, a button, a paperclip & next to his face, a Bluetooth which caused me to wonder if he again walked physically among us, would he be wearing one? Once more both God & man: eating, sleeping, sweating, receiving messages from elsewhere as we do.…