Unspoken Word
May 21, 2017
Written During a David Sancious Treehouse Concert in His Home


The hieroglyphic message of this moment can never be translated no matter how hard I try. Or don't. It feels like walking into a room where the most beautiful woman in the world is slowly undressing and, in her own time, glances over her shoulder in my direction, me not having a clue whether or not she is looking at me or simply seeing something far off in the distance. A blue jay? The moon? The wind? There is absolutely no density here, no plan, nothing cut in stone, no ground -- just the perfume of this perfect moment beyond time -- the place where Rumi dwelled... and Mozart... the space between molecules... the pause between breath... where we all exist when there is nowhere else to go. Freedom, my friends! Freedom! Somersaulting into endless space without going anywhere. Kind of like Chuck Berry walking into a guitar store before he ever understood what music was.

David Sancious

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May 20, 2017
Prometheseus Speaks


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May 08, 2017
Find Yourself, Lose Your Self

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May 04, 2017
The Underground of Love


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April 29, 2017
Beneath the Hot Sun

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April 25, 2017
When You Walk Into the Room

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April 22, 2017
The Swing

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April 15, 2017
Groucho Speaks!


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April 07, 2017
Does Anyone Really Understand?

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April 01, 2017
Where Poetry Comes From

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A Man of Few Words
Choosing the Poetry of Life

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March 24, 2017
Another Kind of Wall in Mexico


Watercolor by Evelyne Pouget

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March 22, 2017
Give Everything You Have

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Excerpted from this book

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March 15, 2017
Eyes Closed, I See All Things

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March 10, 2017


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March 07, 2017
Disguised as Myself

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March 03, 2017
Nothing is Going On

Nothing is going on
and that is precisely the problem,
nothing is not supposed to be going on,
nothing is supposed to be nothing,
nothing, as in zero, nada, zilch,
that which does not go on
and never wanted to in the first place,
but nothing, at least as I've heard it,
wanted to become something,
like a beggar a little too happy upon finding a coin
or that third olive in a dry martini
on a night when no wolves howl.

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February 21, 2017
Out for a Walk

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February 12, 2017


A clean sweep

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January 25, 2017
They Are Still Laughing

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Words of Peace Global

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January 20, 2017
Laugh Lines

The only lines
I want to wait on
are the laugh lines
around your eyes.

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Want more? Read our Archives:
May 2017, April 2017, March 2017, February 2017, January 2017, December 2016, November 2016, October 2016, September 2016, August 2016, April 2016,
“I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry.”
— John Cage

Welcome to my new blog — brief ruminations on what it is that moves me (and maybe YOU, too). If any of my poems inspire you, please forward them to friends. Good muse travels fast. Or could, with your help.

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