The substance was the doing, the process of moving out into the day. Transposing the objects and dilemmas with an action That led you beyond meaning, siren call of distraction To the roots here in the quiet under the tree of life. The reality of plumbing pulls me back into the rooms I left. It…

don’t ask for change when my heart is empty I will give you only money

Could be the enclosed garden Just before the humming birds arrive. The pause when the raised voices Have said all & drained the air of peace. The restraint & halt as Monk’s hands Briefly stop above the keys. The edge reached as one foot Holds above the precipice. Cage’s 4.33 And hearing the aftermath. The…

along the lines the grace notes come on in light rain shimmering window too ragged the beat repeats strong amongst chords held in falling versions finding home in fragments assembled into song

When we mull over the way things are There are distortions, faulty memories. Things that don’t add up, Some blame on the calculator. All those on the road to here, Didn’t make it, playing by rules They never wrote. Under the freeway Out in the great openness we all strive To explore in youth’s inquisitive…

Can we not wean ourselves Of these avenues of trivial pursuit? Measuring the miles to work With occasional variations, stops Along the way on different days. The parking lot to the building Is five minutes. Minutia to keep The mind in its rat maze. The workmen building the addition To a house I pass each…

What of forgetfulness have you chosen to forget to lose yourself in the ever ensuing present tense of silence sewing your thoughts in fleeting ambience as night approaches finally quieting the mini-mall & its lights, candy with no value to you or anyone breathing air

We long to hear the pastel touches hidden In vernacular black that Crest upon our changing shore. Our relationship has peaked and no bombast, Cymbal-riding discourse will alleviate This disquieting soundscape. The storm outside gusts in torrents that Color the shadings of tea cup and saucer. Lights swing with celestial rhythm. The sighs and creaks…

Porcupines do not huddle together When it is cold. Common sense & Rejection are symbiotic in this Reality that sets in the later years, And have allowed way too much Reflection as a toxic mix trying To resolve what costs, rewards, Plain empty enjoyment might be Left to endure along the way To “Sweet Perdition,”…

I am going to meditate On meditation as everything Is calm around this night As all are asleep. I am In the stillness, but not of it. As restless as the nonexistent wind, I palpitate, regurgitate. The purposeless as meaning Does not cling to silence. Hear outside. The total Picture reaches this very Paper and…