Do you suppose
within the blizzard
of transmitted text,
packed in bytes
and individually addressed
in such a way
that your emoticon kiss :*
and mind *: to you
may have met and smooched
in cyber space
before they 1 & 0'ed
the computer codes
that displayed on screens
our mutual affection?

Shadows raced
the clouds
across the valley of my soul,
a midday melancholy squall,
the trigger of it I'll never trace,
deposited thoughts of death
and a stacked chord of supreme regrets
that I played it safe
when bolder action
would have been
the more prudent course.
carpe diem, carpe diem.

You have become the admonition,
"DON'T THINK OF ELEPHANTS"
and of course I do,
think,
not of pachyderms
but you,
at odd and random times
during the course of a day.
Thoughts that pop in and out of existence
as if they were sourced
from a shared quantum flux
that spiritually bonds us
by means that we will never truly know..

To know you beyond flesh,
not to be the cause,
but to swim in one of your tears,
that our silence will bind
more than the power of words.

In a small round room
dense with barefoot people
a murmur grew
that a large glass ball
on a pedestal table
was by measure
a bit off center.
Insisting he had the solution
one man raised a hammer
and shattered it
into untold pieces.
Whereupon he walked upon the shards
To the nearest wall and wrote in blood
"MISSION ACCOMPLISHED".

Round and round and round,
the spin, the rotation of it all.
Once I believed the prayer wheel
was an instrument for kinetic dopes.
I was western yoked,
and blind behind my dark wisdom glasses,
to see the wise homage made
by an intentional turn
to the way of all things.

At night
when you comb your hair
you direct and cast
a lively Balinese shadow theatre
across the walls and ceiling
of our slumber room.

Present circumstances require
that I secure a new venue
so I've been trying on real estate
in the way women once
tried on clothes in Filene's basement.
'If I alter this and take in that...hmm?'
"What do you think,
this place make me look too fat?"

You are my night shaman,
you lead me deep
into primal chambers
where life's mysteries are manifold.

What is the shape of silence,
the vibration of stillness,
the contour of peace?

We were cavorting Orca
in a warm Baja sea,
while you dove,
then rose to breath,
I met you at the surface
in a tangle of sweaty sheets.

Let us hold hands,
experience the connection
between the food
we are about to eat
and all those
that made this meal possible.
The farmer and his work hands,
the lawyers and bankers
that drew up the contracts
and financed the crops,
the truckers, the truck makers,
the road builders, bridge builders,
the buyers, distributors,
the cullers, wrappers,
and food handlers including
a vast myriad of ancillary
support troops engaged
in nearly every occupation imaginable.
We, who are about to eat,
give mindful thanks.

I'm a bit of an agnostic,
sounds a little weasely I know,
But god in addressing you
should i be using a cap G
or lower case g?
As a compromise for this conversation
let's agree
you get a small g and i get small i.
If you've been monitoring events down here
you know we have some not small problems,
and one of those problems you could easily solve by making an appearance.
Nothing apocryphal,
maybe a United Nation speech
to seven billion hearts 'n minds,
and as proof its really you,
you could cause peace to reign,
cure hunger,
call off heart disease and cancer,
for a statistically significantly period,
let's say three years.
What's in it for you?
How about that capital "G"?

"Hail to the jewel of the lotus."
Om mani padme hum
From muck beauty grows,
Om mani padme hum,
Om mani padme hum.

In the constellation of probabilities
there's but one
where we would find each other,
meet and fall in love.
Let us pray our union thrives
beween this band of narrow odds.

Would that you and I
be spiritual dervish
whirling centric
forever heart to heart,
as if two slow spinng tops
were capable of occupying
the same soul centered spot.

At dusk
I was at the bridge
scanning
the bar code backlight parade
of transpanners
and was sad to have missed you.

The ultimate hoover,
a black hole,
(blkhole),
the event horizon,
the equator
of all things possible
delineating
an infinity of nought.

Layout every human endeavor
In a rational grid,
As one would setting up an experimental ag station,
Keep careful data
on all the plot inputs and outputs
and I believe the data will
Indicate that well prepared soil,
Infused with the required nutrients,
The best pretested seed,
And optimal hydration
Will yield over time
Suboptimal performance.
Too many chiefs and not enough
serendipity.
(Hey, is that PC?)
Can you say that today?.
In an  inevitable changing world
You need to preserve strange outliers.

Zero Butkus:
  0 × n = 0
  n / 0 = 0
  0 / 0 not defined
  0 + 0 = 0
But
   (1 + 1)^ 0 = 1

Valentine thank you
for your exponential hugs
making us one.

A yet known lottery buyer
has a ticket
in his possession
that entitles him or her
to $336 million dollars.
I wish this person well,
that the money itself
will be the source of extinguishing
all future thoughts of money.
That this new found wealth
will be a sustained source
of personal growth and fulfillment.
To accomplish this laudable goal
will require a carefully laid out plan.
Should you not have the requisite skill set,
Then let me be the first of many
To offer you my professional services.

The night is a ship of wonder,
and the bow and stern lines have been tossed to the shore crew.
The harbor pilot has checked his folio of channel maps
and sets a course that's true.
You and I, in our bark of dreams,
have an untethered universe to be.

Quick note,
* Bang *
Here!
Who, what, where
?
it's going to take a bit of time.
Work on it,
Stay tuned.

It doesn't seem right
to own a private lake
but I've been guested
on grand estates
to more modest twenty acre piddles.
The common thread
the owners
all worry the taxes.

Concinnitas,
The convergence
of a perfected material form and function
that aesthetically focuses
ones perceptive senses
that resonates
an appreciation that hints
of a collective soul.

Were you a foreign land,
and in someways you are,
I would mount my trustiest steed,
cross your channel banks,
Marshall my invading column
Into your fruited plaines.
And there encamped under stars
Our two houses would negotiate
Terms of mutual respect and pleasure.
Upon which we would survey our lands
Entwined in milk and honey,
And give promise of protection and eternal fidelity.

I'm a deconstruction in the making,
Asymptotically crested,
having had a stellar rocket ride,
I've experienceed a moment or two
of defeating gravity,
but now only too aware
the inescapable trajectory
that is the common fate
of all living things.

Delete

Little stars
Burning bright
How much helium
Did you make tonight?
From hydrogen to helium
A cubic centimeter
Will power an average city for a year.

Where does love reside?
Some say heart,
some say head.
But when love curls your toes,
and makes your hair hurt.
Leaves one to wonder
is love bounded
like a bowl of steaming broth,
or a marrix force field
of amorous flux?

So enjoined,
Across from me,
Two lovers,
recent college graduates,
seeking first career employment,
Conjoined, before interest,
One hundred and eighteen thousand dollars of student loan debt,
One twenty-nine year old Honda
Holding all their stuff
On a side street where we eat
I picking up the check, pray,
"God help them,
God help our nation."

Delete

Delete

Nearly everything is possible
While remaining improbable;
certainties range between near zero & 1.0
What say our chances
We take a walk
While you reach back
For my hand on slippery rocks?

Fragile the moment,
mystery its own brevity,
its inevitable passing
the poetic sorrow
of every sentient soul.

This night
my mind is a homing pigeon eager to vector notes
to and from a distant
unmet,
Unconsummated
love.
It's the message content
I struggle.
Is it love when your words fillet me open
and render me carrion
in my own dreams?

There are a plethora
of Snowy Owls this year.
Their food source,
Arctic lemmings
were likewise in abundance.
Cause and effect
ripple outward as
quantum particle waves
require observation
to lock a path in time and place.

January,
rare
cross hatched
jet
conrtrails
inseminate
this receptive Carolina sun,
Emblazing this mountain azure sky,
framming Appalachian
repeat
peaks ,
terrace stone floors,
and hardwood grandeur.

The black cat,
Laying on my green bed,
Framed in panes of winter light,
Is in the purist state
Of buddha mind.

The improbability of you,
Shooting star,
Birthed in the caldera
Of a winged widget
Ejecting celestial dust,
Now your dance floor
Is the Universe.
And you dance and dance
to the delight of your seasons,
Inspiring your myriad friends.

The improbability of you,
Shooting star,
Birthed in the caldera
Of a winged widget
Ejecting celestial dust,
Now your dance floor
Is the Universe.
And you dance and dance
to the delight of your seasons,
Inspiring your myriad friends.

The improbability of you,
Shooting star,
Birthed in the caldera
Of a winged widget
Ejecting celestial dust,
Now your dance floor
Is the Universe.
And you dance and dance
to the delight of your seasons,
Inspiring your myriad friends.

"The wind has stopped"
Has there ever been a sillier phrase?
What gust has ever been
                            un-been?

Litter
scratch,
  rustle-lated
Un-natural boxed
  cat ****
Cheshired
   grinned
With natural pride
  of being.

The hidden is more than the seen
The seen is more than the observed
The observed is more than the understood
Is it not for poetry to truss 'n bridge
The wattle until better beavers
Make a channeled floody duddy of it?

In this season
I'm walking the rim,
There is always a rim,
An event horizon,
Demarcating
The past and it's lascivious desire to lunch on the present.

December,
   the whole year,
                     actually,
has whittled my world

d
o
w
n

to a lap
cat
older than me
in fur years,
and this misnomered,
smartphone,
from which
I strain to shave marrow
from stolen bones
in the manner
of a single tooth
                            wolf.

the steel on steel clank
of a canal lock gating
is a lonely sound to hear,
and so too your parting words,
though wise, gentle and reassuring,
it is our channel that's closing
and I do whelm - what feels like tears.

wheels splay mud ruts,
lazy "S" tracks tender turf,
eyes trail to horse barn.

without intention water
may propagate life, and wealth,
destruction, and death,
succor a desert civilization,
or ***** out an island nation.
There is no finer sculptor,
change agent, or tormentor.