Monday, April 25, 2016

Dancing with North

In their little kitchen
last week
I held him and we swayed, sweet
rhythmic prelude toward sleep.
Groggy grandson 5 months short of two,
every time I hear this song I
think of you -
every time I think of you,
a smile.

Sunday, April 24, 2016


  looking out, at
  happy, chattering 
birds on the
 shed roof 
it seems  the  predicted rain did not arrive;
the sun-splashed lawn lets shadows dance,
  & I can hang
the clothes out-
  side after all, it means
 plans should be flexible,
 allow for alteration, because  
you just never know when things
 you thought would Be, just Aren't; and
what you never expected can come bursting
 through to refill apple carts, make you consider
some rethinks are warranted, like you could just go
with the flow as if you know it'll all somehow balance out.
Life is            also
  what              what
 we                we
see,                flee,
 try,               cry, 
do,                stew,
and               Man.

Ouch.  So much for the
impromptu poem of the day.

   When sleeping or leaping 
is sometimes the same -
in both you "let go"

Singing in the dark,
off mark

"Blue", our youngest feline:


Note to Self:
It occurs to me that
 everyday things need not be
necessarily responded to, addressed,
 commented upon, reinterpreted, redefined,
 made into something "More"or other,   or re-
purposed as part of some  impulsive creative process.
                                                                                      __    __
 0     0

Like one listens, ha ha.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Boston Departure Blur

squiggly lines ascending
(or are they descending?)

taken from the bus window
on the way back

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Leaf Talk


indoor leaf, outdoor leaf
the conditions under which we detach -
a caretaker's  growing indifference,
prevailing winds,
thirst gone unquenched,
severance from one's roots

if you're temporary, you might get replaced by another
if you're perennial you get to come back,
have another chance
to re-die, or bloom

do the leaves whisper amongst themselves
about themselves - I wonder
what they say

Monday, April 4, 2016


Some things are so predictable -
spring follows winter,
summer follows spring;
sunrise, sunset,
people being people,
models, patterns, habitudes.  Nothing
surprises anymore - the same 'ol
same 'ol, following Tried 'n True. Except
not all tries turn out true
for some; for you.  The decision to
be more of,
or less of
something  . . .

When stopping to smell the roses, you can fall
into the invisible crack in the landscape, distracted
by the mirror-like puddle that wrests your
      A rose is a rose
      and mirrors don't lie, which is why
not the where, not the when, nor the how - it's the who in Unrest
left forced to assess what's followed from what, to
rethink that seasaw,  go