Even in
these
perilous
times,

flowers
are
blooming
everywhere.

Now, in the other world,
we are building a bridge,
from one thing to another,

and of course it’s a
metaphor for our
condition, since

this word is broken,
a hell, of our own
making, like most hells,

so, in the other world,
we build our
envisioned bridge

which is as real as
a broken clock, as
tangible as a body

floating face down in a
lake, but now, in this
world that we destroyed

there are no longer any
bridges, so in the other
world we build our way

to a destination
yet to be known,
yet to be reconciled.

The magician pulls the

rabbit out of the hat.
The dog in the field

follows the fresh scent.
The magician produces the

dove from the handkerchief.
The cat hears the quiet

mouse behind the wall.
The magician saws the

living assistant in half.
The owl in the forest sees

clearly in the black night.

There is an avalanche of syllables
uploaded day & night. It’s a wonder
one can find a verse to connect with
in the mountain words. I’m grateful
for those I have found. It’s like those
two hands reaching out to each
other, painted on the ceiling of the
Sistine Chapel by some dude a
long time ago.

And I’m trying to read the longer
poems, those that might take
3 - 5 minutes to read—oh, the
commitment—the same amount
of time it takes to brew a
cup of tea. In both cases, it’s
time well spent. If you read this
past the first few lines, thanks.

A dead chicken
on the sidewalk,
embers—little bits
of  burning paper

drifting in the
air, a man asleep
in a king-size
bed in an empty

warehouse, a “she
done me wrong”
song with a slow
cha-cha rhythm

playing somewhere
distant, and no one
there to talk to, and
no where to go, and
no way to get there.

The cuckoo
sings to me.
The cuckoo
was sacred
to the Greek
goddess Hera.
The cuckoo
sounds like a
flute and often
sings at night.
Those Bavarian
clocks got it
wrong. Clearly
goddess Hera
had it right.

The riddle of
everyday life.


A balloon rises
as a paper airplane
descends, and below,

a yardstick,
one end broken
off, while a ripening

pear sits on a
nearby chair, as
the drama unfolds.