to attain, what? beauty?




No longer a personage
More a cipher
In between

Which feel sullied
With sadness

An awareness
Of self
I cannot


I continue


I breathe slow
And am deliberate
When I can be

What happened to “the good luck of right now??”
I have lost it in my struggle to
Stay with MY now.

To Stay with it? Birdman, and other of life’s predicaments


As with most things in life, if I don’t stay with it til the end, I won’t succeed in deriving any understanding. So, although I wanted to turn off the movie, Birdman; I did not. For me “staying with it” is very chancy. For instance, I am more likely to shut a book and never return to it. And I have turned off many a movie; walked out of many movie theaters. So, really it was by sheer chance that I somehow stayed with the movie Birdman—through its jarring cacophony of syncopated jazz resounding in the background. And, I am so happy that I did. I will not “spoil” it by giving my skewed version of the film.

This film, is for me, a reminder that staying staunch through some discomfort can allow for the reward of an excellent denouement, to puzzle about long after the ending.

mystery in the world

Fairies who don’t know pain


Fairies who don’t know pain

Are just like flies on the wall

They cannot help the human

Cringed on the bed

Crying in desolation


Fairies who don’t know pain

Are just useless to the human

Who has just skinned his knee

And is crying, a little harder,

Now that his mom noticed


Fairies who don’t know pain

Were humans who knew too

Much of it


Fairies who don’t know pain

Don’t have to remember


They can flit

And fly

And offer

Fairy thoughts


Only the consummate

Observer will

Notice these flighty



To be noticed

Is to find love

Pure love

A connection


A Letter to:


Brief Introduction to “A Letter to:”

While I do not contest to divine the epistolary style of Lucie Brock-Broido, I am enjoying reading her poetry. I am inspired, to presume a letter of my own:

Dear Sir(s),

Ponder not my love of Things. I have it. Spend your time discouraging me? I will still want. Sales make a difference, of course.

I know, 100% is not spent when 40% of what I have is spent. No matter the sale. Believe me sir(s), I have the code.

Spend not your time trying to fix me. The day will come when I will find the end of my money. Much as the Grasshopper greeted Winter after playing all the Spring, Summer and Fall long. Both the Grasshopper and I will get our come-uppance.

Ultimately your worries over money spent will cease.

I know not when I will stop pining away for that which I have not got.

Hopelessly yours,

The Spender

walking night seeker



A night the opposite of the cerulean day;

The deepest dark surrounds her;

Complete with shadows, grey and mottled,

Stretching long

All around


The deft illusion

That would mold….

No, MOLD her

(instead of dessicating into another

form, she pushes forward, into the color-absent night)


she walks


the greys, the blacks, combine to imbibe her


when she finds an

open car door


(it’s 3 AM) and she should



She looks in


The shadows the

Normalcy of nothing

Scares her


As the dearth of colors keep

Her walking

The bats of day




Hanging on the roof


Trying not to heed

The sound of normal




Their difference

A gang of sorts

Bidden by the

Imposter king

Who tells them how

To rule others

Like the king does


To foster fear

To insure hate

To continue to run

Away from the

Straight way to live

Rather live

Upside down


But obedient


Where will these

Bats end?

Will they fly


Learning another way?

Or will they



Never to know

True camaraderie