You're my only hope
I need you near
I'm in Deaths scope
It's the end I fear

in the wake of
the Baltimore riots
I saw a picture of
a young boy
offering bottled water
to the line of shielded police
right there...is the hope
for humanity....
I commend both the boy
and his parents for their actions
there is goodness everywhere
should you want to look

I stand relaxed
on the headland
as the wind rustles
the branches of
the totem pines

looking out to
the horizon
smelling the mix
of salt  and pine sap

I breathe in the day
crisp morning air
bright golden light
the sound of waves
gently slapping sand

for the moment
the world is
good and whole
and complete

and I wish.....
I could hold my
breath....all day...

but alas...
all I am doing is
turning blue...

the little blu cat
sits in a shaft
of sunlight

fastidiously
washing behind
little blu ears
with paws
encased
in crushed velvet

the image,
is ....sublime

the elephant sits quietly
in the corner,
reading Holmes
as we tiptoe through the to,
too many words,that slipped
from tequila lips
and open-gated brains.

the leopard,
is in the bathroom
tinting his fur
to an even shade of black
and the owl
is busy outside
trying to get
the wisdom of the ages
safely back.... inside.

monkey saw,
monkey did,
monkey lies,
monkey defies,
monkey now,
in the barrel
with a nailed-down lid.

and the whale sings,
a mournful song.
the dolphins,
once  again,
thank us  for the fish
and then move on.

but still,
the elephant sits
and reads on...
as we fervently wish
the dormouse to appear
and slap the mopey begger
on his ample rear.

*with nods of thanks to:
folklore, CS Lewis, Dr Suess
and Douglass Adams

some nights
the world is just
against you....

in the mood
to get funky,
with the hunky
carpenter.....

got the bed warm
and the naked form,
working it's cold night,
warm bed magic.

when the cold nose
of a cold cat
runs up my back....

absolutely tragic

I jumped
when I should have
******...
and now the night
is ....static....

and all the joy
the carpenter has
is attached to
a bag of frozen peas.

the day is slow
the clouds barely drift
shadows lengthen
with minute pace

we sit together
and ponder life
grass grows before us,
tea brews in a cooling ***.

the cat stretches,
rolls over and
falls back into
blu-cat dreams


the world sighs....
                    such a wonderful
                                           lassitude

it is summer and even the grasses
start to wither in the dry heat.

i am broken like
an old iron gate,
i have ornate scrolls and twisting
roses.

in the long, hot hours,
the sea roars softly
and i long for you
wrapped into the hollows of the sun.

little pieces of me gathered into
you scattered like a
blue sky.

little pieces and i know i am only
of fragments and love.