I know  a show of hands

Could go help  solidify

Some  Freedom Solidarity

In  some look-in lobster  tank.


Odds are  dismal to abysmal.

IF I can be more frank,

When the  independent  finch, for instance,

Finds her very own  airy currents home,

It’s a cinch  she might not light

(Her, broken on a branch?)  (perchance)


When It’s one chance

We had once gone

before  on the long ground,

We  look  down.



December 3, 2014

I recollect  I could call.

I took yr number  on a matchbook.

I don’t smoke  but it happens

I can appeal  for pens

& Something to write on.

I regret  getting back the pen,

To a lady who lent me,

As it happens,

Matchbook, too.


January 18, 2012

It’s that

T.S. Eliot

Went on and on

About the here and now clock,

Taking disjointed, angled notions.

I’m not talking about Prufrock,

But Burnt Norton.


It’s that

This   idiot, this one here about,

Wants one and all

To ride to just this side of  shock.

Close eyes.  Close in on  seas and oceans.

I’m not talking about

Anything that can be talked out.


&  for  sure,

Don’t confuse my composure

For knowing the   now /here.




At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is, But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance. I can only say, there we have been: but I cannot say where. And I cannot say, how long, for that is to place it in time. The inner freedom from the practical desire, The release from action and suffering, release from the inner And the outer compulsion, yet surrounded By a grace of sense, a white light still and moving, Erhebung without motion, concentration Without elimination, both a new world And the old made explicit, understood In the completion of its partial ecstasy, The resolution of its partial horror. Yet the enchainment of past and future Woven in the weakness of the changing body, Protects mankind from heaven and damnation Which flesh cannot endure. Time past and time future Allow but a little consciousness. To be conscious is not to be in time But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden, The moment in the arbour where the rain beat, The moment in the draughty church at smokefall Be remembered; involved with past and future. Only through time time is conquered.

-T.S. Eliot, from “Four Quartets, Burnt Norton





(=Bodenerhebung)  elevation
Translation German – English Collins Dictionary 

Probably his phoning her

                    & promising her he

Likely  will leak  the phrase

“Blatant fact of  charm

For a one armed

Big tent  high wire act”

Into one of his plays,

Would be all of their downfalls.




When it must come time

For me to present my  1st line of   defence


I’ll  jump  a  fence.


I love a little alcove

One one can’t see from the Lighthouse Tree


I’m safe until I can’t sleep still


Seems my dreams  by day  may try to betray me

machinegun prose in places

I’ve seen one or two good tries,

without a net,

where the fittings  (unchaperoned),

 without alterations,

were dapper as pie.

Where the tailor told not one.

I sat wet in my sigh