Tired summer stripped off,quitting the trees earlier each dayuntil a disguise of green droppedin bold patterned,bright coloured skirts downaround bony knees. The hidden places are shown. It now appears to the naked eyethat beast and bird, by nature knowing how,built nests high,collecting bunches of warm things,dry twigs, torn fur, used feathers and,stolen from the nearbyContinue reading “Revelation”


Flagrant summer strips offand the hidden places are shown,collected bunches of warm things,dry twigs, torn fur, used feathers anda plastic bag or two,floated from the nearby grocery. Beast and bird, by nature knowing how,built their nests secret, high,out of sight,safe against dark times, yet no matter how innate construction skill,all hopeful gathered homes aremake-shift, temporary,notContinue reading “Revelations”

Parameter Study

I thought I heard thepoet sing, the chanteuseand the preacher, too.Harmonic moments, I supposed,held music that had much to dowith love. I posited love’s point might bewhere song and heart collide,far from me, a mystery, beyond, below, above, outside, forunder my researching lens,the heart turns into meatthat only electricity canever urge to beat.

The Finch

I saw one Finch dressed sweet grey,belly puffed white,face of crisp dark charcoal,today. The wholeof some minutes,I watched the birdclutch a nervous branchof nature’s nondescript tree,ten feet from me. I did not know the birdas an individual,its self and shadow newto me,but the imageof all fast beating heartsand warm plumagesoftened any brutalsuffering.For a paused moment,IContinue reading “The Finch”

Who Is The Foolish One?

With typical obfuscation of fact,though no sea is near,we call these sea-birdswho drop sudden witha satisfying, compact splashthenreappear,shaking water from wingto flap upwards again. It is one final feast day on the greatlake and cooling shallows reappearwhere choking boats recent were. Summer has reached horizon,making the vast water and all elseapprehensive,yetappetizer fishswim easy. Why? AreContinue reading “Who Is The Foolish One?”

Baby And Bassinet

I dreamed that, as day roseabove the window-sill,an old clock radiodanced to life,spilledbad news,wokemeup. I lay then in bedsome minuteswhenI had an idea formaking a film, soI made a semi- rectanglewith both hands,the way directors doand looked through.. The scenewas of a baby comfortable,awake, but not distressedin a basinet, foreground. A landline telephone was ringing.Continue reading “Baby And Bassinet”

A Lesson Of Autumn

Gained knowledge informs thewindow view, ordinarily pastoral. Experience sees,what a ‘mime-boundary’reveals,the transparency itself is glass,the shadowing, heavy clouds are vapour. Horizontal leavesare known to beafloat on fast moving gas. Comforts of a well-lit roomseparatefrom cascading lastleaves of the year. Thoseyellowed, browned, reddenedwitnessesend,are blown to their death,battered toward decay, by gusted howlingthatvacates thenorthad nauseum. This isContinue reading “A Lesson Of Autumn”

The Invention of Plastic

I’ll betcave men caughtan extra forty winks,said, “Hell with it..”a time or two sincethe breakfast firewas a bitch tolightand there was no mortgage due,nothingof dire import more to dothan sleep until the sleepingwas through. Ours isartful actand very much ado,about the same old nothings;finding food and shelter,reproducing, too. Modern life’s accomplishedwith a, “Git ‘er done..”attitudeandContinue reading “The Invention of Plastic”

These are the Days

‘These are the days, my friends,these are the days.’ – Philip Glass This is the day, my friend,this is the only day,the solitary timefor you to readwhat I haveto say. This is the minute,it is youandI. You cannot hear much screaming.from the place whereI sit writing, so nothing proves thatsomewhere, sevenbillion otherscenesexist. In the placeContinue reading “These are the Days”


I don’t knowwhere a boyor girl might go at the end butall atoms remainof the gone.Then,do the gonereally go? Shapes and clusterschange, decompose,remain,ready to rearrangeor trade clothes. When a star(which I once was)collects a little ofleftover unattractivestuff and shines because,the less handsomebecomebeautiful. One lawin the booksays,“There is conservation of matter”. I am matter,you matter…the twoContinue reading “Residue”