Monthly Archives: November 2018

Never take this personally…

But I wanted you first glance

Coup de fondre, like a lightning bolt…

Zap! I was cooked, toast, smoking, baby!

Prisoner of sex and love

Weak-kneed & flushed

My words said one thing

Transparent as window glass

Lead me into temptation

A voice called the pilgrim

And I marched onward

With dusty bloody feet

And threw myself again & again

At your sacred bed

Only to slide off

Rejected confused forlorn

Even now my hopes arise

Through time to be surprised.

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Judge us by the weather

How the clouds drift in fleecy herds

Or massive ink wells, maybe mountains gold

Towering over plains with purple rivers

Cutting out continents, too, you & I can be blue

Empty as a cerulean bowl, a cloud wisp here or there,

Briefest reminders, yes, without fear

We stand together, before the darkening waves

Horizon breaking, crashing our shore…

Above all this news, from nature round

Says we embrace, whatever comes as One

So, let the Fates to blow wind blow—

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There there now!

Grief has no sting

The asp is lost

In the garden full

‘Neath leaves & twigs

Its tiny smile foams

Seeking not ankles fair

But toads & slugs

And all things dark

Known to slither & hop

Into slimy chambers far & wide

Where only evil

Dare in foulness reside–

Your step is strong

Your beauty prevails

Nothing corrupts

My sweet angel’s trail…


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Listen, Crazy Cats!

There it is!


Nails on wood–


Can’t find the key–

Do you know?

Where? How?

No more…please

I am simple & quiet

Will force the door

Spring you to air

Great bowl of blue sky

Never never

Go there or here…

Wherever, again!

Got your promise?

No? Really?

Then sorry for you!

Moving on–

I hear Nothing!



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Mr. Kitty & Friend Henry of Dubious Street Life

Let the court review the background of Mr. Kitty and friend Henry who had quite a long shared ride at the home of the family of adoption of these wandering street cats. This is part of the legal investigation of their activities in being adopted without proper papers. The sympathetic adoptive humans who took them on did what they thought would lead to a better life of these felines without papers or proper histories. It is hoped these preliminary notes will aid in finding a basis for an acceptable legal review. However, there are challenging research notes yet to recover. Street ruffians they were but their adoption and adjustment to family life with humans, inside or outside, resulted in a wide ranging social adjustments.    Continue reading

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Time tempered with waste

That extra motion unfounded

In theory a practice

Chips off the edge of the art

Descending into burnt dross

The specimen steaming

Lines of elegance marred

Tossed aside to try again

One start, one finish

Fit the standard or fail

No excuses, no seconds

But eye brimming water

Through exaggeration

And possible grossness

These orphans may rise

One overcast day trees leafless

And march en mass

To claim their place

Pushing aside beauty

And the idols of perfection.

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Lo, there they lay…

In a valley far below where silver creeks and lush grass

Painted an Eden for weary pioneers–

But there was no path nor animal trails

The rim stood tall like fortress walls and high overhead

An eagle sang “Beware to the living”

Which upon thought showed them a dream

Where angels dwelt and mortals begged

For merits unearned.



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Where’s the Sage Brush?

The tumbleweeds and horny toads or the real ghost towns

With saloons and hitching posts? Gone, all gone,

The old timer said leaning over the balcony

Of his Tucson condo, Not even chewing tobacco,

But sucking  oxygen from plastic tubes…

Bes give it up, he muttered & coughed.

The Old West is dead…near about like me.

Looking down at pools turquoise rectangles

Like a broken bracelet, our jet flew me higher,

Till clouds covered my foolish dreams of  dudes.


Notice at Court: Hearing on Troubled Male Feline

Be it noted that last week’s hearing on the cat’s case seeking a proper review of previous matters will be rescheduled to a later date once the cat can be found after an escape from his home on the range with ready access to meals and snooze after a weekend of whining complaints to owners to seek his own personal representation rather than a human’s uncertain grasp of the arguments.



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My prison window…

Gives out a view

Of green grass and sea

Waterfront property

Impossible in freedom

Available in bondage

With razor wire blur

Not really an aesthetic failure

As it keeps my reflections

Well grounded in the possible…

Me, hater of cuts & stitches–

No, quite placid on elbow

The sea’s green blue moods

Sky mirror passing

I reel drunken on agitated hues

Like seasoned weather

Moods jumpy with mortality

And form a silent prayer:

My peace if found

Will follow me everywhere.


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Don’t Push Your Miserable Luck…

you appear empty, ghost-like, dead already, why rush things, don’t be an asshole, put down the bottle, the vial of pills, turn off the violence, get off the couch, take a walk, and when we find you, don’t beg & cry, you’ve had a great run, sucked up resources like a GNP-sized rat, we know you know, let’s skip the preamble, stand up & take it, this Judas kiss well-earned.

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