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.…

Like a Lighting-Bolt You are– Strikingly-Inspiring And my Pen glides Over the page Like a flash of– LIGHTING It’s so fast and it’s so free Words are JOLTS OF LIGHTING In the bones– And through the feet– Radiating over ME Like a glow of Glitter-Rays Creating through another PHASE Turning Time and– Turning Page Inking…

(an English sonnet) In the crystalline, becalmed air The thought held its place there By the picture of large regret, The sailors’ sorrow, the broken net That caught not fish the day described Windswept in that darkening bay. Now the picture is seen as skill, A trial, a test of human will Where brush was…

The memory I have of the 4 of us is this…. Years ago on a weekend night after dinner in your living room a bit tipsy a little high “Rumours” on the stereo Your 2 sweet daughters in the other room playing and getting ready for bed Suddenly bursting into the run blonde curls flyings…

The world is on hold. The axis has been tilted. Day is slightly less, a blink, a yawn, then gone. Events go racing by with the debris of the lost. That which we hold onto is slipping away. We grasp at each other never sure that our own shore will ever be secure. It is…

I remember us as children… Dancing to merry tunes and wearing pristine white dresses like little brides on our First Communion Day… and kelly green Girl Scout uniforms…. You with bouncing brown curls and shining eyes the rosiest cheeks and the sweetest of smiles… Who grew up and a wonderful man fell in love with…

I am no where to be found as I disappearing in between the space of inconsequential words and thoughtless feelings Barely as a shadow I exist and only flutter to life when a true kindness is said and tentatively become content Warmth flows in and I am whole for a while till the next time…

No more will I look to mountain tops and think of wild kisses and shivers down my spine No more will a song cause me to pause and remember for I am finally letting go after all this time I know now we were never to be we were just a brief dream a wonderful…

Have you crossed serious roads and not looked back? Part of your brain sees “destination,” another part the walking that “goads” the doing though lacking directions. Alone is final, for then there is no one to say the pillar of salt behind could have been you.