April 28, 2020


I’m  here In  winter
My Win plan is here, New England
Ideal for our deal.


New lives can occur
We’ll stretch, then reach though spaces
We belong here now


Fireplaced air  fails to
Enhance Us with  enough heat
To keep  a distance


I’m fine with pining for  somewhere else

But I’ve not got a trace of sense

To embrace the opened-present tense

I’ll see my way to Calliopes call

The lines seem too long, too wide, an’ all

DREAMLAND boasts  “the most creative rides”,

So Go!


There I take my place.

Stare off into space. 



the Muses of Uran

“The Muses Urania and Calliope” painter-Simon Vouet

It does/  despite a dozen plagued days & plagued nights/


What I heard on hope/  at least/

& what’s more / Before/ true peace/

Can come  & stay/

Whiskey/ we’ll have to hold out/

Oh/  I’ll hold on/  for some more memory/

I’ll wait out/ dark matter endlessly/

I’ll Stall all  possibility/

& Staying dark/ is not work for me/

Just  sayin /  “Mark my wordspill”/

I’m still falling still/

Into true

True love



April 11, 2020

It’s not really spring there yet.

The thing is, I think that you’ve

Found out some hyacinths to wear in your hair.

Mushrooms are way out. Buds above maybe move.


The bridge is too stark against blue of springs sky.

We’ll finish our trail then we’ll cross it halfway.

Feels we’re a vessel, overhead, just above.

We’ll be far over, and float, on our love, on our love.

We’ll proceed however,  from our bridge and our day.




photo by Celeste





That crap in yr creamy breasts  threaten us.


I pray for the day

We lay our selves back

Just time on our back

I sing only songs that ring only true

Right to  only to you

In bed we’ll watch “Red Shoes”

We’ll leave off counting re-watching “Brief Encounter”

We’ll listen read & listen to Burton’s reading of “Under Milk Wood”

At least we’ll feast on a breading and cheese plate

At last we’ll  settle  in  safe

From cancer   and

From  wait.



Discerning the meaning of

This lantern, in a dream,

You carried  while leading & lighting our way

All the way in to .. until the still pond.

This can be a simple one,

That torch is a symbol;

We Hope now  for  magic!

we might resign to/ yr kind light  on our plight.

O’  We just might  go  plea.

We could just go down as, at least,


For our freeing  Might





March 12, 2020


It’s a damned near full moon

It’s clear,  a bracing

evening.  I’ll exhale out

to trace the treeline  off

to a nothing northern florida town.

She sat at a flea market

where tons of townies in camouflage jackets

pressed past her at her table and chair.

Her pronounced pretty eyes

were the ideal quirk for gypsy fortune tell work.

Green, like beach glass.

How might they see me?

How can she be expected to espouse

All Ahead  for me   there?

At that table & chair there, exposed

to that flea market crowd?

Men, off to gun tables.

Women, drawn up the way

where puppies are given away

(hunting dogs no doubt)

How Soul-intimate can my gypsy and I get?

Can she pull out

All that’s in

In all of this dumbed-down din?

It’s delicate business…

There’s this inarticulate air here

Against which…without a hitch..

.I want to wonder over every word..

I want to wonder for every prophetic word.

How can we do this with clothes on?  Absurd.


I can see, by the chance

of this damned near full moon,

I’ll watch the line of my breath dance

just off the distant treeline,

Off to tomorrow’s full sun soon.


I’m  here

In  winter

It’s  ideal

For our deal

Yr Win plan

Is here and

New  England

It’s  ideal

In  here

We’re into each other

We’ll stretch  then reach  through the spaces

The fireplaced air  fails to enhance

Us with just enough heat to keep us at a distance

& we’re into each other





It’s as if the night chill is layered w/lies

I’ll wrap on a parka, take a scarf,

& one weapon when I partake a walk to scour

& secure  the walls of our peripheries.

That’s all sad  that the threat of winter rats

Threatens where we’re at.

That’s all sad  I heard a horde of something verminous, previously

At the airport,  inside security, unadvisedly,

Because a loud & caustic crowd  belongs in the street,

It’s not wrong  they stay in the street.

They’re partly at an airport,

Seething.  See me see off a still-surviving  “lov ed  one”

(It was a cinch to ditch my long-time escort)

My version is   I left all & I came alone

& got  conversion, & intimate conversation.






Hieronymus Bosch



February 1, 2020


I’ve dreamt.  I forget..

I only kept

One excerpt, one clip

I took back

Here to look back to


You may see way down

To two  in the water,

Not drowned.

You could see that down there,

That they were freely moving.



We ride out on

That river of grasses,

And that  for a while now

Made for the miles

Between us.


We’d ride out on

The one door, the one

We always want open.

We’d ride one door,

Still open

Wide to a wide world.




December 30, 2019


I’ve dreamt of an angel, Nursie dear

Near she sat and pat my brow

Her half-smile warmed me with more light, more hope here

I fell back on my fevered pillow




Why? Why by chance you’re my Florence Nightingale

That grows pale at my rows of wounded

& Hard-headedly disclaims, “All is tainted”

But goes on blinking out your saint eyes,

All the shadows god’s light must have painted?nursie