The World Is Full of Resonance

The world is full of resonance

Of loving echoes ringing;

The birds still try to tell us this,

If we but hear their singing

For sound can glitter in the air,

And make the sad soul glisten —

The world is full of resonance,

If we but stop

To listen

Technology’s A Fickle Thing

Technology’s a fickle thing,
In case you haven’t heard:
We master things when we are young
That then become absurd —

It happens to us everyday,
But we’re still undeterred:
We always think what we might know’s
The last and final


The Clouds, Like Us

The clouds, like us, seem made of naught but dust:
We travel over hard and rocky ground,
Through countless miles agitated strife,
Then pour our dirty selves back down to earth,
As ash to ash, and dust to dust, indeed.

The clouds, like us, chaotic and obscure:
We tangle in each other, slipping out,
And heaving back into confusing mist.
The past, the future, both – so much to know
That we can never fathom, though we try,
To find some shape or order in it all.

The clouds, like us, whose days are hard and brief:
But in whose tears are growth, and life, and hope.


Social realities
Common dualities
Made from societal modern modalities

Hoping for Socrates
Stuck with banalities
Tortured by habit and anger and lyme disease

    Cherries we pick and then stack into piles
    Hidden by marketing image and smiles

Alibis heightening
Chains are all tightening
People who jump at the first sign of ripening

Burdens delightening
Fear of de-whitening
All who can listen are due for enlightening

    Cherries we pick and then bushel away
    Fruit that must come, and the price
    We must pay

Of Paradise

There is a history, untold,
Of paradise and passions bred;
And so we spend our living days
Among the houses of the dead

Beneath the selfsame sky they knew,
We walk their paths, and feel their souls:
For all that was, is yet to be,
And written on our own hearts’ scrolls

There was a story, long ago,
Of paradise and brilliance shed,
And so, these hours in the sun,
Where blue desires led to red

As time goes to infinity,
So we must go as humankind;
For all that was, is yet to be,
Our past and future, intertwined

Of paradise, there’s much to learn —
Like knowledge, softly shaken, in its turn

The Price The Tribe Demands

In thought and look and feeling

In action and in word

That’s overlooked, or sanctioned

To swallow the absurd

In reasons for our reasons

To hide what’s true or real

Complicity –
Acceptance of what’s evil

And paucity
In truth to what we feel

Human Novels

A person. A voice and a viewpoint;

But more than a genetive text —

Heredity writing the first draft,

Experience writing the next —


I’m not sure how much is of choices,

The things that we do or do not;

The number of chapters uncertain.

But all of it’s part of

The plot