When just a boy, a thin, tousle-headed boy, he lost his word.

People told him what to do, and where to stand, and how to think, and just the way to wear his pants so he would not look out of place, and he thought maybe he should decide these things for himself, but he couldn’t find his word. So he went along.

One day, he got his stupid fashionable pants caught in the chain of his bicycle. Crash! Came down his bike. Smash! He fell flat on the pavement. It hurt a lot, and his eyes watered, but still he couldn’t find his word.

A few days later, he was standing where he was told to stand, trying to think the thoughts he’d been told to think, when a girl walked up to him with a question.

“Have you seen my reasons? I think somebody took them. I can’t find them anywhere.”

He said he’d help her look.

They looked in hallways, and they looked in trash cans. They even looked on the ramp behind the school. But they could not find her reasons.

“I lost my word, too,” he told her.

“At least you have other ones,” she said. “Those were all my reasons.”

They walked along in silence a minute longer, before he said, “I have some paper, and some colored pencils. Let’s make some new reasons.”

She smiled at him, her eyes sparkling.

“‘New reasons’… that’s a pretty good word you’ve got there.”

The Panic Mutton

It’s time to hit the panic mutton.


I mean, I’m a bundle of nerds.


We’re all waiting here, with braided breath —

Come again?

Come on, you know what I’m talking about. We are all on tenderhooves here.

Sorry. What?

Oh, don’t be so tongue tight.

It is time to hit the panic mutton, I think.

Good. I’m glad we’re on the same wavelet.

Yes. Talk is sheep.


There’s life and beauty, here, I see;

I reach to capture it in verse —

The world is better than my words,

And also, very, very, far much worse —


I heard a saying once, but I’d

Betray myself, if it I speak:

The sayless often show the truth

The resting often find the thing

They seek

The World Sits Veiled

(Originally published August 2014. – Owen)

I say the words I mean to say;
But often, there are more words than there is meaning

For some of us, things are much harder than words
And relationships are even harder than things

I have a hard time untying even simple knots,
And I can’t fix things that are broken;
I don’t understand the people I know,
And I don’t understand myself when I’m around them

Music I can understand
Mathematics makes sense to me
Poetry speaks directly to me
But the world sits veiled
And silent

I Like to Imagine…

I like to imagine…

That my commenters would put as much effort into their comments
As my spammers do their spam

That what I write would change something besides
The smudge marks on my keyboard

That national elections would be conducted between sane people
And for actual reasons

That we could accomplish things without
Yelling at either Siri or Alexa

That schools would conduct other activities as good for their students
As coloring is

That people could make up their mind whether they want
To celebrate vice or condemn it, because
The constant switching has gotten confusing

That I understood anything


Katya (1)

Beauty imposes limits sometimes

Katya (1)

From earliest of memory
Was told that she was ‘pretty’;
But never ‘strong’ or ‘smart’ or ‘bold’
Or anything like ‘witty’

And yet, the truth – she’s all these things.
But she may never know:
She’s felt, as long as she could feel
That she’s just there
For show