Tuesday, January 20, 2015



I am the fruit loop
hung to dry when you left me
in the calcined rocks
strewn about our front
slope as if you might find me
in their crumbly shapes
and remember what
you have done to this old soul,
this wizened old soul.

‎November ‎26, ‎2010 7:37 AM

I found out that friends of mine who have gone to a life of promise have crashed hard on the rocks of their day. I love these people and my heart is hurt. Now I shall remember that one is to proceed in complicated times like cooking a delicate fish. That observation is one of my lifelong guides, found as a suggestion in an ancient Chinese classic. I have no intention beyond loving them both. That this poem arises from the queue at this point seems a touch spooky.


  1. I leave my remains here
    to your gentle ministrations
    can you find it within
    your heart of hearts
    to blend me in
    like any other crumb
    find me a place to rest
    to be forever in your sphere
    of influence
    or will you leave me
    to while away the time
    in idle destitution
    will you at least
    find me a place to lay



The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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