A whorl is not a swirl
Although it may seem so.
Allusions as illusions.
A reflection deception?
Yes or know?
Can we ever Noh?

The past presents itself in future
The constant is conundrum
The happening has happened
The now, the effortless action
Only eddies of the Dao

Wake up!
I’m awake.
No you’re not!
Slap!

Wake up!
Am I dreaming?
No I’m not.
I’m awake.

My dream:
I’m slapped awake.
By someone not her.
A dream begins:

Coruscating typographic glyphs
Leaves retreating
Roots descending
Tarmac glimpsed

Wake up!
I am/not awake
Wheels down
Then up again

Not awake
No landing
Still ascending
Still plummeting

Wake up!
Which is the dream?
Awake/asleep?
Slap me.

A scratch of me is from him
Carved from current’s flow
Glows in setting sun

Life as summation
Illumination of
Striations cleft

The bereft
Must instruct
The rest

Life is unbelievably beautiful
And remarkably breakable

A rush of joy derailed by
Some news inducing grief

Life seems bipolar because it is;
Crushes of fate between triumphs

What wets our eyes can
Sometimes beget laughter

Choose the latter
You‘ll feel better

semester ends frenzied
with freshmen disheveled
I worry for their worries

I feel their predicaments
but not mine to solve
my words, I hope, are salve

retirement ripe,
I do my best
they must do the rest

I smell cookies baking
There are no cookies baking
What do I smell?

A childhood memory to a
Time and place of comfort?
Wanting the past to last?

Other triggers:
Grilled cheese sandwiches
Campbell’s tomato soup
Breaded fish sticks
Polka-dotted Wonder bread
Liverwurst and catsup
The tasty tang of tang

The nose knows; I’m
Olfactory traveling
Memory meandering

Still, I really smell
Those cookies baking…
I want to go home again