the saddest part of dying
is what you forgot to do
the ideas born in lucid dreams
that vanished in the hue
the mountains never seen
the oceans never crossed
the poems written on scraps of paper
a lover's smile now lost
the tears you held inside
the chances never taken
the landscape of your life
an oasis now forsaken

****, this website
Just ate one of my works.

One which was a repost
From January of 2024.

Relating how I was delving deeper
Into quantum theory & mythology,
Into the sciences broadly & philosophy.

How I was going to mix them
And make them intermingled.

How I would mix that of my life,
Or more aptly how I write of it,
With that of new science & old antiquity.

By mythology, philosophy, & theology.

So as to create digestable content
That inter-wove those concepts
To better translate them to any given audience.

All this life sought
Was in my feet forward,
Backing into stumble on rocks
With no path, life is an S curve

It hurts to fall hard
Worse yet
Is to not know why
I walked at all

A cool spring morning
In the rain with my canine on lead
Rushes into the glade
Where a doe may rest unaware

Still at old age I know, nothing
Every morning in the dark
My eyes open, for what?
I have lost all meaning of why

Are the next rising suns
Teachers on the green that
Remain after the snow melts
A reason for standing up?

I lost track of my dog in the meadow
As I listen to a poet who says
That tomatoes do not bleed
Is my life a fruit I can eat

Through the spring branches
I see a home below, pale yellow
A white door and a pane of glass
Asking, will I come forward more

An unknown, will I care to find out
Where is the deer and my dog
The door seductively beckons,
Walk this way with strong shoulders

Every day is an opening
For planting new things
Or letting the past burn to ash
Stunned in body and bones my trips to the ground

The knees and hands ******
And worn, as the apple skin
Holds a hole from the worm
I am the fruit as much as the scar that shines, happening now

Who dares do this?

[in the future from 01/19/22
the final night forty years hence
thence two years more makes now

12/12/2024… but I wished it happy early]

My gig is what? I read. Seriously,
sincerely
Poetic License

Speaking truth
to truth's power,

Magic Moment's You Looked Me
in the eyes, e-yes, I will, I expect…

I, the ne'er-do-much,
- be live for now,
thinking,
if the peace I take is metered out,
a measure
for a measure, ***
for tat, eye
for eye,
worth a minute, any time
my word on it init
all that had a meaning,
once,
I imagine,
rituals were kata, steps
in a danced how story, why I know

first step, emerge, be in time, aware
there are others of a sort I am sorted on,

male, confirmed, white,
circumcised, to snip a bit
there off the tip, for no reason, we just
do it
so

it may have held common sense once,
now it seems a secret reason, lost
in evolution
of the mind
of man,
measurer
of all things, sorter
of odds and evens, pull
to push, act react mimesis,
as we see
we think we do,
mirror neurons, telos, reason, cause
sui causal are we? Nay?
We appear,
and be as if formed
to a pattern,
framed as a fine sail… a
wind catcher,
hook burr grip, like a virus or
a sycamore ball. Yeah.

echoing yeh yehey hey, not that way.

watch the beach ripple in the clouds,
there is such a pattern, in beautiful places

and I grew old in one, surrounded
by grand children laughing into teen years.

This would seem heaven to many, init.
I happened as a part of it on earth, happened
around an artistical Tophet gift init getting easy

I sang my blues as a man in my fifties, that's over now.

We settle down,
feelin' who knows, maybe

just this time of year, but slow, you do, slow, you know,
fastest times and lastest times and bestest times

you know, you
never taste the best of next,

you just gotta remember, once

you bet your own life there was something better,

and you won,

fell in a puddle of peace past asking why,
just note how some things happen just in time,

and happen there each time, waxing moon hand
and waning moon hand, clap.

Going off the handle?
Better to say, gone?
Broke the neck off the bottle,
When you were just trying to
Get the cork off?
Perhaps you twisted too hard,
Slow down & be gentle.
Love isn't a race,
It's a marathon.

A rhyme heard from when he was younger,
For there was a love perverted for the Greeks & Romans.
There was more, but I won't go on.

Oh, my days have gone back,
To the time I wore a sack.
Dusty, saggy—it was disgusting;
The threads holding it weren't so trusting.

The period long gone,
The chirpings I forgot—
All return, all anew,
Yet old, yet to be taught.

The sack still fits, though I've grown
In flesh and thought, yet not alone.
Its seams recall what I forget,
A stitched regret I haven’t met.

I tread the path I swore to shun,
A shadow walks where once I’d run.
It whispers truths I left behind—
Not cruel, just quietly unkind.

Do I resist? Or let it pass—
This mirror made of fractured glass?
For every step I try to flee,
The past keeps stitching into me.