in catching up on a life that was lost, I’d miss the living in front of me.
I know not where to look or stand…
I reach for footing; find just sand.
the body count
This is your hand, these are my hands, this is the world,
which is round but not flat and has more colors
than we can see.
He takes his finger and puts it to my chest.
He doesn’t come / when you call / usually.
The Men of MIlltown Mourn this Morn;
Their groundhog, Mel, is dead.
Who would do /
This / On purpose?
I wait for joy. Again, this year, I wait.
The curtain crashed before the show was o’er, / So no one got to see the very end.
On and on, up the food chain…
you feel alone now / but now is not forever
knowing the nature of cycles is often all that moves us forward.
Out there is a world / I can choose to inhabit;
The unexamined life is not worth living, / And Life Uncovered – Hidden – Unforgiving.
My morning’s skies of blue soon turned to gray / The moment’s respite gone in sheets of rain
This was the first in a very irregular stream of video entries. I’m slowly uploading them to my site so … More
I am in stasis. lying, substanceless
in the furrow of my brow.
I used to think loved ones who had died sat on clouds and watched…
joy and grief often reside in neighboring rooms