You would think that I would have a handle on this Based as I am in no space, with no story but the road But those who let loose in raves surrounded for miles By pavements, they think that they can achieve That state, there, in Clubs in the basements of high-rises. Maybe they know more about this than the lion in the zoo. These faces come and go, family is far flung across The...

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In cloaks of words I wrap myself against the weather
Storms I conjured up as punishment.
Hands full of swords thrusting up out of the earth
The round route I take.  Gazelles return again
To the brink, to drink.  And me? To think.
So I skirt mans burning fire, hyena lurking
Laughing in the dark.  A great arc I make
Like a dim sun at the end of his leash
Scribing the day across the sky...

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For Robert Watson Not so much walking, as rocking side to side, each step an inch at most, like a wind-up toy.  It's a long hallway, but it's early yet.  Boiled vegetable puree and chicken broth again.  Everything hurts.  Most of all, the children.  Sleepless nights, unawakened days.      Brethren will come when it's too late.  there's nothing left but to linger.  The road ahead is grim, thi...

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Aspen grove
Separate trunks
Thrust skyward
Shaking golden leaves
Whispering tambourines
I cannot see the forest
For this tree

Separate bodies
Milling about
Shaking hands
Whispering gossip
I no longer see the selves
For this humanity

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This stick named Outrage
Is what stirs the masses
Rousing them in anger
Rail against injustices
Wolves in Yellowstones
Gangs in L.A.
Genocide in Africa
Trouble in Latvia, or
Slums in Mumbai.
And while anger is better than fear
This focus remains on the problems
And so the problems remain.
How then to drop that stick,
And let our focus be guided
To solutions?
To set our sails instead
...

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The waves come and go
And the sea remains the sea

The reflections come and go
And the mirror remains the mirror

Joy and misery come and go
What remains is what is me

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Express yourself, they said.
Somehow I knew, but went ahead.
And as they recoiled, in shock
At the horrors under my bed

The fear and shame upon their faces
I've added to my box of haunted places
I join them, as me they mock
and hide my words when in their spaces

20161229

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sticky wax collected from the ears of ten thousand bees

feathers of every bird save the ostrich

balsa canvas sinew atop the cretian cliffs

with the wings strapped to our backs

from point spinalonga we set out across the sea,

to catch the wind

the culmination of fear as we left the rock

Minos’s men not far behind drove our last steps

the sea beckoned but the wind would not l...

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