“DETAINED”, CAUGHT.

June 16, 2020

Stoicism is an ancient Greek philosophy which teaches the development of self-control, steadfastness and perseverance as a means of overcoming destructive emotions.

from  (THE VERY BEST SUBTITLE I’VE SEEN, I’m in)

Martine Weber‘s  

“Stoic Tips to have No Regrets on your Deathbed”

 

 

“DETAINED”, CAUGHT

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What were they thinking

I’m not to leave town

I’m a faceted test pattern  Blinking

Personas of interest  Renown

Only to the  powers that be

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Ok  I get cagey  occasionally

Ok  yet I remain   With my reminders

Of  stoic  stands  that’ve  been

Lost, inconsequential,

Cost  monumental  to just a man

 

 

 

seattle 2014 065

Photo: my  “Hell’s Ditch”

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“We suffer more in imagination than in reality”.-Seneca

C a l m i n g

April 27, 2020

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With  one  voice,  an’ all,
I will  be awed, lung-filled moved.
Near,  imagined soul.

These  hypotheses
Move to proofs. I’ll be stormy,
Soon,  halcyon days.

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STILL3

 

 

 

for sunni

ONE WIND AWAY

April 15, 2020

They have severe concern/ They have fear

They even give voice to it/ Close to chaos here

Some of us imagine us just assuming first symptoms

Some of us don’t imagine at all/ but when it comes

I wouldn’t pray/ that it couldn’t slay me

We all guard our house of cards/ Queens and aces

But we’re one wind away./ All our upturned faces.

I shouldn’t pray/ that is shouldn’t lay me/ down

I’m old as a weed/ & haven’t lived like I loved it/

Profound.

 

For Being Somewhere Else

April 10, 2020

 

 

Blackened breezes rustle
Sacred/ olive trees, skies muscled thick.
I took a sight that set me more lost
More sour than seasick.
I see him, knees bloodied,
Face drawn/ down
to earth.
I was being/ once/
Just a man also.
I spied/ by my back down
To my murk/
I cried/ by my own shadow,
But did not cry out,
To interrupt all that too intimate.

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When I was a young/ more willful man,
I fasted/ from dawn Friday
Until the last of Easter/ Today
I’m past that/ I would if I could take the families
To the best Italian place,
For sacrificial lamb & blood red wine
& all before that, maybe Grace

 

rosa

photo- Alex Whitehouse-Hayward

M O N K E Y I N G

January 8, 2020

Listen, I looked like I was listening

You whispered, I got the gist of it

As if you thought well of me, and were murmuring

I caught the most of it.

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We haven’t talked enough.

He complains, “It’s complicated”.

He remained at his plugged in window

All day, alone.  A phone just off.

We haven’t talked enough.

A phone, just off. We would waited.

He remained, not leaning far enough

Way o’er over our wishing well.

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Every fool knows first hand  it’s foggy,

Can’t see past your next step.

Man, can’t you plan for terrain ahead?

It’s blinding, the fog.  Can’t find me.

 

 

OLD FACADES

December 26, 2019

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West, we rode & wrested away from…save the olde facades of Savannah.

When in Jesus-sodden Southern Georgia

Some sign solemn  told me “try him”,

I ran & ran that mantra by

& waited ’till my lips straightened.

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Here, I take my sweet (& dear, fleeting) time

Rake up raw data…

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I’m readyish I guess for you to take my order

DOWN ON MY STEPS

December 6, 2019

Left  on  Moody.

Now stop at three amber-yellow lights.

It’s not because of the cops & cameras,

But most here run the red ones.

Look  both  ways,

And straight as you can,

I’m on the right.

Pretty  sure

My porch light’s out.

I’m down on my steps.

Pretty sure I’m on the right.

 

F i n d

November 11, 2019

It’s like I took then lost this
I find the book but lose all my crucial glasses.

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When she’s away he awakens
In a computer chair  at 4
In his underwear  shivering
He shivers his way to a quiet bed  for a  quilt fervor.

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I could swear  when I’m there in Cold  Extraordinaire
I’ll find yr essence in the air
I breathe in on the other side of dark.
No charts, No GPS, No whereabouts facebook (I would guess)
Just heart, by the numbers, by the book.

Persistent Pests

September 12, 2019

I’ll try to mollify my nightside gnats.

I’ll placate  the buggers

I’ve waved them away

Short of swatting them dead sure  away

They’ve plagued me

Was that buzz   there in my ear

 

They’re watchers  They’re  warners

And judge me until I won’t budge, then I budge

They’ve plagued me. My problem.

I’m sick  by and of them.

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Noir Morning

April 13, 2019

Change & keys upon a bureau corner

Can’t be far from boots and his trousers

Low volume all night tv tells murder stories

Some are unsolved like this week I’ve been havin’

I could get my car back if the garage is open

My fuckin’ phone got lost in a downtown without pity

I’ll maybe get another once I am way  down the road

Some contacts, all the music won’t be easily replaced

I can chalk it up to “Oh Well”.  Sunday’s almost come