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Sunday, September 30, 2012


  A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new. A. Einstein

Names For You

Gold, yellow,
leaf— conceit.

Nazi, Buddha, and
space rock elements
span in sediment.

Tree gives the last
moment of green--
White birth
in fall—ivory.

as nature's east
readies for sleep,
the new year
awakens her


Monday, September 24, 2012


The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure the process is its own reward. A. Earhart

 Smile Therapy 34

I am in smile therapy
even when I am viced in
the legs of life.
I am strong.


Friday, September 21, 2012


Dearest Flashlight –

You illuminate the places
I don’t want to see--
The fearful corridors,  
your lucid spot light,
the gray cobwebs,
a buckling corroded tomb.

And you revel with your light—
our truth.
Five years it took to believe
in the meaning of a dash--
the time where endings begin
with each new brick of light.


Monday, September 17, 2012


Smile Therapy 33

I am in smile therapy
knowing if I put my foot
in my mouth, I can
say sorry!


Friday, September 14, 2012


As fire when thrown into water is cooled down and put out, so also a false accusation when brought against a man of the purest and holiest character, boils over and is at once dissipated, and vanishes and threats of heaven and sea, himself standing unmoved. Cicero

Incendia:  Words No Longer Needed

I am drinking in the smell of him,
the rage of fire on deserts’ lips,
the need to heal the temper with holy water.
The hidden wound,
a gape, a burn, a slow slip of blood,
a night that will never die;
a nightmare in black transition.
The mouth is half moon, half dream,
weighing no intent on his limbs.
He is the wound which keeps bleeding;
I want no piece of your burning heredity--
always loving,
always judging,
always destroying,
the path with which you singe.

I sat beside her through her
mechanical  vespers,
loving the rapid
movement of her lips, even as her
lips seemed to curl like waves when she prayed.
Hands like water, eyes searing undertow,
fingers fascinated with pressure,
singing in time with the mere
words said in redemption’s horror.
The reverberation of footsteps
escaping to another wet dimension
allows me to go on existing.
Feral fear and screams fill the rooms,
ten hands bless with unctuous signs of the cross.
I run up and down the dark steps lost.

A petrified candle squanders in its own tears;
I fumble in slumbers somber clothes.
Saintly feet electrify nature’s impossibility--
a soul’s mind riveted in Gods marble--
I watch
the meaningful squeak of a wood floor lost,
the tenacity of a dusty stained window,
the site of uniforms shadowed memory,
faster and faster, always alone, faster,
the indispensible mechanism of the power unknown.
Fingers unravel naturally as silence buries each bone.