Subtle misery amber soot
Soothing its way numbing mute
Dopamine Aye!

Wondering when I let go of the loot
Might delusion swing me on a chute?

How we c o i l and s w i r l
Serpents                        into
Bright           and       black.

          Gnawing and pawing
                             Beavers into
          Bobbed apples      seeds.

Why we writhe and ache
  Worms           into
Withdrawals headaches.

                            Hermits        on Holy Grail Chase
                            Beacons into
                                                        Dist­asteful      b l u r s.

                                     May we shine
Eagles into
Suns and kins.

The Sansui turntable still works well.
Like memories, round and round,
Needling me. And the more I play them,
The more they itch.
I know the dark side of the moon,
And the way the sun shines.
The dances, whirlwind moves,
That have settled now.
Inside the sleeve are notes and our words.
I will not let the dust jackets do their job.
I set Abbey Road gently on the pad,
Place the needle softly, and hear the familiar scratch.
Standing back, like watching a parade,
I listen.
Here comes the sun on a cloudy day.

the world today truly has become
the global village once predicted
by McLuhan 50 years ago

it took three decades longer
than he had thought
but now we have
all real time developments at our fingertips

Trump talks to Putin and Duterte & cetera
and we know about it
right afterward thanks to his tweets
that land on our mobile phones

suicide bombs exploding
in Damascus Baghdad Gamboru Kabul
hit us on our social media right away

so does the news about a bus
that fell into a gorge
     all 65 passengers killed
     somewhere on the globe

or of the cat caught in a sewer pipe
rescued by these brave firemen

little of all of that
adds to our understanding of the universe
or might be relevant to our lives

a bit more positive reporting is in order

at best served as sensational
as the bad news
     that keeps us occupied
yet more important for our daily lives
than all this hype about
the danger and the devastation that
     possibly
     or not
may happen if
soandso does suchandsuch

at times I contemplate
if it is better to be out of touch
and not to care about the news
so very much

a crow pheasant calls,
sudden throw back to childhood;
a swing across time!

it is a clear word

as water pure and bouncing

off rocks



a bird





or

messing about



remembering #

days mud building dams

fighting the tide

pushing back years



running the path

fighting for freedom



then it comes

unexpected

like

the lark



bird



sbm.

the crown was heavy like an oil lamp bolted to a block of black marble, strapped to the surface of a neutron star
with a strand of hair from a severed head of Guinness
and all promises.
the king stared out into the palms of his hands
and cast his eyes upon the kingdom of misrule.
contemplating the arc of His royal arroz. mindful,
that for every grain of truth, a sack of arrowheads.
And for every bag of rice, a happy surf.

He lifts the embargo and now openly trades bards with competing Theaters of War and Peace. Boldly poaching inspired contradictions and holding court with renown arguments to the contrary; always feasting at a long, narrow table in an oblong chamber
of proprietary stars.

He lifts His Eldorado, and now
his back hurts.
Having never learned
to Bend The Knee
At the hinge of
His stride.

And now it's off to bed and goodnight.