Sigh. English.

She gazed upon her beau in the Gazebo, The wind was winding windily And wound around her wounds Moreso, and so much more, And also, all of it was all so A surfeit, that sure fit Where the boards themselves would surf it And cast abroad words as broadswords, With cars of tunes as cartoons, … Continue reading "Sigh. English."

My Friend, the Duck

My friend, the duck, does not know why We curse and quiver as we do: He asks me, if we'll, by-and-by Learn how to calmly think things through And glide the way we're meant to glide. With answers, though, I've had no luck: For we, the people, try to cover When we've never learned To … Continue reading "My Friend, the Duck"

objects in the mirror

I lost you in the days when we were mired in the weekly grind; the heart and body set aside to cultivate (or use) the mind I lost you when we realized how much was worn and tattered from all of the neglectful time misjudging what had mattered And now, there is no you to … Continue reading "objects in the mirror"

close enough for vicinal

in times so adversarial few days that come are ferial -- where we don't recognize some birth, or victory, or burial -- and yet it's all officinal: what we will call medicinal, and who we'll share it with as being close enough for vicinal and so it is without regards we cut off all the … Continue reading "close enough for vicinal"

Ice And Gold

In early voices, and in songs, I heard the stories told Of romance and of mystery In days of ice and gold And far my mind and heart would roam Past mountain and past sea, To find in one small, confined room A world, a galaxy -- We give our toil, yes, our blood, We … Continue reading "Ice And Gold"

Wednesday Leftovers (1)

Many people carry around two certainties: that you cannot know what it is like to be them, but that they know what it is like to be you. The fact that there are rather obvious logical difficulties with this position in no way dissuades people from holding it. The intensity of our reactions to things … Continue reading "Wednesday Leftovers (1)"

Strange Markers (4)

Eight years old, looking around a brand new restaurant. All around the high walls are watercolor paintings. Sailboats in summer. Horses running in winter. Nobody has to teach us to love drawings and paintings, we just do. Showing what we see, using only our hands, is kind of an amazing thing. Loving color, loving the … Continue reading "Strange Markers (4)"

Strange Markers (3)

Humans play thoughtlessly upon the edge of great waters, even the one called “death”. Twenty-three years old, though, and while everything was done thoughtlessly, those waters had, frankly, come to look pretty inviting. January morning, bitter cold, a storm due in. Walking, walking, mile after mile. Another year ahead, another seemingly pointless year. Thinking, at … Continue reading "Strange Markers (3)"