I could not sleep longer than 3am. The best I could think to do was to grab hold of Facebook and scroll away. I did so. I am weak. This is not good. The man, Mr. Zuckerberg and his company, his cheating and lying and good ‘ol college boy antics / attitude have taken usContinue reading “By Design, Intelligent or Otherwise”
Tag Archives: acceptance
(JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo)
I am enjoying refuge at Starbucks, in their clean well-lighted place, but I am not Hemingway, he was more closeted than I ever have been. I sorta feel bad for him. An honest adventurer who couldn’t consider the whole picture, a real man who didn’t understand.. but I digress. There stood a time, once, forContinue reading “(JohnPaulGeorgeandRingo)”
On ‘Daylight’ Time
April 17, 2024 On ‘Daylight’ Time I type and one word catches another’s tail as the other passes quickly,underway to Wordsend.Wordsend stands as a high cliff above,watching the place that is no place,found in every place…staring blunt into that place where all is bound.That end place is one which words may not describe.It is aContinue reading “On ‘Daylight’ Time”
March Twenty-Third
While I sat, considering,a one thousand-footer traversedtwo-thirds my far horizon.It is empty, up bound forore,and birds hang aboutagain. Can anyone saywhat is heaven,where is God, whoor what makes a miracle? From Lords and leaders,hear weexpectations of the end,some write their salutations,bendany willing earto hear the guillotine hit,as mask and wig tumbletoward the pitand disappear. IContinue reading “March Twenty-Third”
Squirrel On a Fence Post
I am that so grey squirrel,paused on a fence post. Rough dogs are busywith carrionof sorts,which gives me time fora warm ray,and twitching. Spring is not yet herebut will arrive,in time,by whatever egregious meansit must,so,too,with armageddon. I withdraw my sharpenedclaws a moment,wounding onlythis leftover and dried doughnut,from a grease-shack’s kitchen waste,found,down the street. This,is whatContinue reading “Squirrel On a Fence Post”
Enough to Deal With
We have enough to deal withdon’t we?cruel rain and cloud and knife andbullet,priest and politician.Somewhat the same istrue for wolf and bear,alwayshungry and thirsty andwalking somewhere. Fine castles built,long summer’s gathering,a saviour ark,these may give the driest tinder heartjust a moment’sflint-struckspark.We have enough to deal with,don’t we?
The Little Black Dress
The Little Black Dress Just out of reachin a shop window,discreet,one teasing design’sperfection. I am huge,her heart says,and incomplete,without the basic black dressI’m told a wardrobe needs. The deeper she studies an innocent reflection, so greater becomes her restless irritation, until she, resigned, repeats: “Is there no measure,no sort of tapeto offer kind assessmentand aContinue reading “The Little Black Dress”
That Force Which Through The Green Fuse
(January 18, 2024) Outside,puffed birds are actingcrazy today.Perhapsthey have a temporary blindnessgranted themby whichever, whomever forcecan offer kindness on the one hand as antidote for icy truthheld in another.Maybe the flappersare simple, foolish, joyful?stamping wings the way I would feetto get warm? I am glad the long grasswent to seed,the berries to dry.My ordinary procrastinationContinue reading “That Force Which Through The Green Fuse”
The Smallish Artist
December 10 2023 Someday, I will truly understand where I belong, what I should and shouldn’t say in public and whose opinions and actions I should pay attention to. In the meantime, I just say what I like and hope I have good sense. I do care what the world thinks. Perhaps too much. IContinue reading “The Smallish Artist”
The Trees From Which
Those trees from whichgreat violins were fashionedmade sounds like sighing.Bold limbscreaked and groaned,urged by wind that spentmidnightbeing musical. This is not quite the same musica cricket makes when itrubs its legs together at evening,arousing,but you get the idea. Perhaps Antonio Stradivariheard a branch moan,leaped from his bed, thought,“That is my elusive tone!”and ran to hisContinue reading “The Trees From Which”
Robert On The Air 