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Sit, stand up and walk straight
and don't you ever wait
or else be seen here late
for it's all now our fate
mankind's most evolved state
humanity's last gait.
____
Written in late '23.
"These days
I'll sit on corner stones
And count the time in quarter tones to ten, my friend
Don't confront me with my failures
I had not forgotten them"
Jackson Browne

<>

these days,
you can come by tween
the mostly soft warming cracking of Dawn,
and the early born-ing of
the first peek of a full grown
but yet
sleepy sunrise,

you'll find me siting on a
asshard dock,
two seagulls staring at the
human interloper,
alone with the threads in my
hardened head,
beating time in casual rhyme,
because that's what poets do,
to warm up their
tongues & toes,
clear their eyes
and
sniffling nose,
their partly opened,
party closed,
throats, eyes and
give up, sacrifice
the longest list of little lies,
that makes (forces) us to get up  in the undimming earlies,
when it's just me, the gulls,
& the minnows poking around,

the fluke,
smarter but not wiser,
further out in deep water,
waiting to be caught

and
the cool blood barely flows,
until the rising orb warms
our fragility,
and we review the stories old,
that make us cold at night promising ourselves that
today you'll do that thing(s)
you've been putting off for years,

"Don't confront me with my failures"
Jackson pleads, but I concede,
thinking tell me them
one
mo' time,
make me unrighteous,
make me whole,
then take me,
holy displayed fully,

and the
first poem of the day,
will be my
confession total,
without reservation
and yet muse on
honor
something I thought I knew,
but needing a
closer examination
it might've been
dishonor
that was what
I was truly
knew
<>
Sunrise
July 5
'25
sitting on the dock
by the bay,
would I

lay down with a lie?
 Jul 8 abecedarian
irinia
I feel time running like a wild animal tnrough my body
the air might hide from itself in the frenzy of an embrace
the molecules of emotion create the music of muscles, of spheres
I watch this momentum of life unfolding, rising and decreasing
passion feeds the wind, the waters, the eartquakes, it dances on liminal edges
bound and unbound the pulse of creation, of destruction
I am so very quiet, as quiet as the retina that translates the light
when the light touches you my optic nerves get burned but look
how strange,
I see further away into the clarity of hands
a decent night's sleep,
my body to keep,
early light invades the
blinking eyesight, and
an indeterminate sky,
yet offers us an
either/or,
heads or tails,
success or fails,
what will the gods
offer us all humans,
to select, elect for this
anniversary of our
country's formation?

the slow rising sun
over the North Fork
will soon provide its
decision/incision for
our nation tumultuous,
turbulent, course direction

it appears that the silent
dawning will give us yet
another chance, a morning's
golden hour, with that irradiating
light that bathes us with visionary,
equality of light, light of equality,
but
last night's thunderstorms leave
us the detritus of savagery of
thunderous rains that came
with fury, reflecting our confusion
and the danger shoals that appear
with no warning, yet reminds us,
once more,
one more time,
even in troubling days,
of the blessings
of opportunity
that each day,
each unique sunrise
provides us choices,
and
skies have now spoken:
the early warming rays are
reminding hints that a new day
owns equal opportunities to
make our country beautiful
for spacious skies and
amber waves, of
water and light,
if we choose wisely, rightly...

July 4th
Silver Beach
Shelter Island
2025
yes, oddball me, when the subset  sunset worshippers clutch their ooh and ahh pearls, moaning nothing compares to the beauty richness of, the serenity vision of a slipping sun
putting us to bed with a restful aura

***** that

me pre fer

a sunrise powering its way to *******, asserting its power of life and death over this earthly satellite, one of its obedient servants, reminding the flowes to open bloom, the grains of the field to ripen, the animals to re~warm from the cool night, emergence of humans from their protective prophylactic shelters, and commencing to observe their surroundings with an admixture of
silenced glee, and fresh resolution and a quick uttered prayer of thanksgiving for having so much precious that we possess in so far as we were born naked, and be burrowed same, but in between that, we own
temporal rights to love, appreciate
and to
being a human story
of
    
       *glory unique
9:07
june 8 '25
~for M.C.C. ~
who sang me to sleep,
when my soul begged me for
sweet release,
just was lucky, I guess

"Mornings here with a coffee cup
Stories in my head, looking up
If the rain holds off we'll be in luck
But we're lucky anyway"


<>
Been there, done that,
ritualized & compartmentalized
the essences of the routinized,
to measure the days of my life,

as small keepsakes,
charms and tokens on a bracelet,
jingle bo jangle,
when another be repeated,
the telling belling of
a ✅ of satisfying satisfaction,
<>
and I!ve been bone
marrowed & narrowed hell~married,
imprisoned until decisioned,
that no life was no life at all,
(take note! y'all y'all),
and I miss my dog's greetings,
and snoring while I'm wide awake,
always loved to drive too fast on  
back country narrow lanes,
in my suburban shrunk
small suv,
with radio blaring, no need for
trucking on the Truckee,
been there, done that..
<>
in the small ways,
in the
small places,
take my slow going days my way,
and not no need
to rent borrowed uninfluenc-ed content
cause I custom built it in,
easy like, five easy pieces,
learned to make daisy peaces,
of the bright nights melding
with life affirming hot sunlight
and there is no bad time,
with a cold blue~ribbon
in my left,
my right grasping two O'clock
on my heart and steering wheel,
driving freedom fine,
Chapin~ Carpenter
on the stereo dial,
no set time,
just anytime,
rain or shine
for me and my poems
to *** together,
like old time,
any fine rhyming time,

together we flashback
to the sweet Release
from jail in 2008
<>
and break out a new one and clap  it onto the clasp
my bracelet of charmed
keepsakes,
like memories of
my old dog, thinking
one more time,
just got lucky

6/27/25
Mary Chapin Carpenter Lyrics
"Girl And Her Dog"

Everyone asks when you're growing up
Who do you want to be
I never had an answer, couldn't figure out
Why I couldn't see
Myself as some future other
No one's partner no one's mother
No one's answer no one's lover
Nobody but me

But the older I get the more I see
That more by itself never worked for me
Keeping it simple as it can be
Walking along just him and me
Mornings here with a coffee cup
Songs in my head, looking up
If the rain holds off we'll be in luck
But we're lucky anyway

A long time ago I got married once
Didn't take long to find
That the words I heard coming out of his mouth
Were not the truthful kind
I thought about moving to LA
Maybe upstate or the UK
Anywhere as long as it's far away
From what I left behind

And the older I get the more I'm sure
That more by itself never was a cure
Some days I've got nothing to show for except
Walking the dog and walking the floor
Mornings here with a coffee cup
Stories in my head, looking up
If the rain holds off we'll be in luck
But we're lucky anyway

In summer neighbors leave tomatoes
In fall dust coats your tires
Spring greens up every shadow
In December we lay a fire
I figure I'm finally old enough
To know who I want to be when I grow up
A girl and her dog riding in the truck
Wave as we're going by

Now the older I get the less I need
Just a good old dog underneath the trees
Keeping it simple as it can be
Fitting together like a puzzle piece
Mornings here with a coffee cup
Whistling for him while I'm looking up
If the rain holds off we'll be in luck
But we're lucky anyway
 Jul 2023 abecedarian
a m a n d a
i can play something,
sometimes…
with a certain
semblance of structure.
it is all I can promise.
~
Learning to patch. Learning to mend.
Learning to venture. Learning to comprehend.
Learning to capture and befriend.

Inventing the berry. Inventing the cream.
Inventing sweet slices before bedtime
and the Fragaria colored dream.

Loving new life. Loving each child.
Securing the stem and raising the vine
by loving the wife.

~
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