December 26, 2019


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.


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

Rake up raw data…


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


December 9, 2019

We’ll go back to the willows

We’ll go back to our willows

And to our river’s stillness,  no,

It’s constant as rivers go.

We’ll lend our laps as pillows.

And watch our water

Littered with new leaves

Wet on one side,

It’s lit…a sun jewel

& you’ll be sunny too.




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.



November 30, 2019

For  nothing  plenty

I wait, right at  distraction.

Don’t say “Close yr eyes..”


“For force stop”, I mean,

I see Beauty, like looking there.

I’m stealing each stare.



November 23, 2019



Every day hailstorms,

An ordinary miracle,

Softens gravitas.


All this laid to waste.

Here’s my dump truck of good luck.

In-not-long strong sprouts

Will no doubt green up the place.

I’ll no doubt surely surface.



greenDitch1“GREEN DITCH”



November 9, 2019




Steady still intent
Instilling something graceful
I’ll force, offer up


Some strong move/ Something Nureyev







for Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber


June 30, 2018

shoes  adam littman davis
Steady still intent
Instilling something graceful
I’ll force, offer up


Some strong move/ Something Nureyev







for Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber


December 4, 2017


Some seem to see the floor of the sea

as a sketchy, yet effective sanctuary.

They’re thinking, I think, that it’s tucked away

good. &  Could be quite quiet.

Sure would be  you’d dream good there.

Surely, it goes  you must breathe free much slower.

Sure,  bluegreen cracks for surface lightening.

But, You’ll see  that jeweled fishes,

Stilled  with  witness,

Flee at the softest flourish.

And bets are..sandbeds there are busy with movement.

How can my dreams take when I’m floating awake?



My Lofty Thoughts

November 24, 2017

It’s not been my story   to take inventory/

It’s  I can’t even fake  the worry

About what I have, What would I want/

I suppose  I could pose  but I can’t/

It’s  said/

An  unexamined  life

Is  good  as  dead/

I said/

It’s  a body afloat, & its solid thoughts  float too, y’know/

& My Lofty thoughts  not  caught  oughta ride

On all tides too  High and low





.                                                                        (from way back)


June 29, 2017




She won’t roll away & not watch me.

Y’see, I won’t  seem to take,

When I dream (or I wake).

to take  another breath  before

The scene fades, before

lights go up

then down  to more of a zoom.

She waits in our bedroom for me to resume.


We went to go to a yoga class.

Where a barefooted, hairpleated group leader;

beautiful, and calmer than a

merciful last coma,

She insisted that our deep breath is

the gist of all of it  (within, & out).

We rearrange the short & tall of it.

The Gist to change the depth, see,

of our sea of possibillity.

When we inhale

we rememorize  our own gods.

We exhale our hell.  barefoot.  on a mat.

Whew. To all that.


When I get to go to the Gulf of Mexico

I’ll try out  into the drink,  1st thing.

I’ll try not to think when I try to let go

&  sink when I deadman’s float all day,

into what I think of as a spiritual drift, in a way.

I’ll hold onto my breath,

face down,

head down.