Wind Chimes

Lemon tree in flower—

Watching the wind till
We cannot bear not

To hear it bring it.

Cowards Don't Leave Suicide Notes

So sorry

I couldn’t

Say goodbye

Pandemonium

I thought I’d seen it all before

That spring day that spirited, frisky
Kid frolicked into school on all fours,

Gamboling through the halls
Of knowledge, all hell breaking loose

Before the dumbstruck pupils
And their all-seeing teacher finally

Got smart, chased the demon away.

Hard Times All Around, Poets

What the dickens—

Rotting but not quite
In cold hell, nor in thicket,
Burnt-out magpies scavenging
Black chimney smudges

On ashen-tiled rooftops.

Cross My Heart, Hope to Die

I cannot tell a lie; this photograph taken a few years back is proof of what getting down to earth in my neck of the woods will look like in no time at all--what a place to lie down in!

Primeval Evasive Action in the Asphalt Jungle

mind you

(like this lone black cat stealing through dark
culvert under low bridge under construction
regarding man as clear and present danger
freezes momentarily before turning)

maneuvering way back

Resolve

Our hamlet’s unending conundrum:

If the quest to find one’s self is nothing
But tedious, bothersome, humdrum—

As some infinite jesters would have us believe—
Why does one find himself coming back

Ad infinitum?