Gliding In Emptiness



busy, always so busy

buzzing from one stray thought to another

around a stalk of witless obsession

a deep need filled with perceptions

of life, the edges of a feathered fracture

to tap dance across

or fluttering

on a breeze of easy answers

as life, bored into years of numbness 

becomes a drone hovering


you are gliding in emptiness

and your heart has missed its journey

never pausing your flight to wonder why

not even for one slender moment

so long as you are busy,

busy, always so busy




nesting in your soul

just beneath a cloudy day

right above a dried up creek

lies a motionless rubble strewn path

covered in weak branches

chipped at boulders

and burnt sage of all colors

waiting foolishly stubbornly

for a deluge

to save them

to meet their need

to relieve its loneliest limb

down to it’s deepest root

but the clouds won’t give

and the water walked away

the very same moment you did



life seems heavier

balanced across our backs

holding us in place far longer

than the welcome was intended

moving forward in some small way

blends into a more fluid journey

a flow of experiences too deep

and too powerful to imagine

how easy it is to transcend

watching or standing still is useless

supporting the bulk of inertia

lumped together with reality

surrounded by perpetual motion

results in veracious roots

clinging to rotting vegetation

in a disturbed current

collapsing into an avalanche

of loneliness

soiled in the past

Not a Soul


not a soul around to hear

a haunting call in the wind

drawn into brushed clouds

vanishing in a single stroke

the world below too far

to care to feel to see to hear

the song of silent space

whipping by in an echo

of voices of time of shifting

drifting in a seamless flow

of paint on a canvas gliding

across an ocean of blue heaven

one gust away from beyond

where the stars reach out

brightening a shining lure

to fill the emptiness aloft

the loneliness soaring high

spreading outward in infinity

the sound of yearning singing

of one hope

one dream



not a soul around to hear


The Naked Trees


resting on the branches

as if tired somehow

leaning closer to death

pining for us

to see the wisdom

in a symbiotic breath


outlining a gentle touch

or caressing an arm

tickling in the breeze

you brighten each

wooden smile from stem

to last to leave


clearly molding

an organic love

hovering to tease

yet bound by choice

wildly embracing

the stark naked trees


lake seaweed


reflecting in

the deep darkness

cold and beaten down

never quite reaching the warmth

… just hovering above in the sage light

smothered in silt

shifting with regret

despising its own wailing

still muffled and useless

… buried with the dead even so

not wise enough to realize

it will divinely thrive

drawing closer to what it needs

out of the raw lonely depths

… needful of just patience and peace


james and fireworks 2015


a sojourn of being the key

there is a resonance, of one or many

a softness of blurred notes

bent and reflecting, creating its own song

a side strain of determination

an aria of will, if you will

courage in the rhythm, or lack thereof

for it knows know middle ground

even one break in the melody

and its time to move on

the refrain becomes death

a measure of finis

the descant will survive

albeit with a lowing

for the kinship is not broken

only resting

while lost in the silence

In This Being



Half of the time

rebels are lovely

you just have to catch them

at it, unawares, when

they’re not looking

for inevitably if they know

you’re watching

they behave differently

stand taller, form their thoughts

shake their bangs out of their eyes

swish their tail in a springy way

ultimately just a show pony

with long eyelashes

and a meaty hind end

but if you manage to sneak up

and see them meandering through

the tall grass, wind in their hair

a sunlit sparkle in their eye

you’ll see a moment of truth

an intensely felt flash of

perfect contentment

and there lies the soul

the root of this being

for you to see clearly




when you need to forgive

forget or let betrayal go

for stubbornness comes

in many forms

from at least two angles

split by that fence

the long trampled grasses

at your feet

and the obstinate bees

mulish in their relentless pursuit

of each and every flower




floating away in a sea of clouds

of an age beyond innocent fury

watching the bonds blown apart

from above the will of a squall

the marriage of a lifetime looms

the accomplished rooted in a gale

the flurry fills a graceless culture

while I float away just a balloon

not even a permanent mist

slightly just out of reach

pausing when others run

pushed about in a storm

of my own gusty perceptions

watching them growing smaller

as I continue to travel on

leaving behind nothing humble

slowly becoming a bloated zealot

but then dubiously I burst

a wondrous splay of color

playing amongst the gray

dense edge of emptiness



from the shadows

I can almost feel the warmth

the cool tint teases me

reaching into haze

I seek

a silent tone

bending the darkness

stretching into a brightness

but I hug the dusk

of obscurity


in the dimness

comforts my gloom

and surrounds me in a gray

veil of murky angles

tangling fear

in a bow

tied up in shades

scented with a haunting

like a plague pursuing old bones

trying to blot out my trail

of dark sunken steps

as I stumble


into the light

Wanderlust of a Doodad

Reposting for a friend’s amusement!


Wanderlust of a Doodad



He hated being next to the cheese grater,

it scratched up the beautiful Saturn ring he wore,

so in anger one day he sliced cracks along his sides,

and rolled himself to the other side of the drawer.

The wine opener jumped back having a stroke,

and accidentally poked a hole in the spoon,

who whined terribly day and night,

with a dribble, she knew she was ruined.

The cheese grater scratched at his gashes,

he was no longer greater than a knife,

now he had huge tainted clefts,

how would he be able to find a wife?

The garlic press pulled out his camera,

pointed it at the grater and said, “say cheese.”

then posted it on eHarmony and YouTube,

searching for a lady the grater would please.

The dinner knives took a closer look,

along with a butcher knife and hatchet,

all agreed the grater looked sketchy now,

and said, “cruise the auto drawer for a ratchet.”

But the grater didn’t give up on love,

he widened his space in the crowded drawer,

scratching the shiny ice cream scoop, too,

knocking the chopsticks onto the floor.

The ice cream scooper stared coldly,

dragging over others as he moved in a crawl,

exciting the now happy cork screw,

with the hardness of his ball.

Sounding like a throbbing number,

the chopsticks were beating themselves midday,

just as a scraping noise was heard,

clearly, up a few drawers, that day.

Slowly but surely with a scrape, scrape, scrape, pull,

a voluptuous figure was heading their way,

buxom and black with a shiny new head,

snatching at the wood, she made her way.

She reached the drawer and stood up proud,

showing off her curved grippy handle,

while the strainer flipped upside down,

and the matches lit a birthday candle.

She was made for the big square grater,

even the pizza slicer did a wheeler,

the grater fell in love instantly on sight,

with the curvascious carrot peeler.

Tangled Lies

1 abstract


caught in his own tangled lies

twigs poking at his thoughts

teal blue eyes stare inward

stirring a breeze with intent

the black reaching into the earth

or splayed in a fan barked order

his soul trapped in the emptiness

between each hole and crevice

arms curling he boughs

while his trunk arches away from truth

offshoots frozen from growth

now stumped and filled with worms


blackened stems

mate and stroke

squeaking rub

as the wind

joins in behind

making a huge

bowing threesome

maybe more arms

twining a weave

bending apart

many feet above

meeting after dark

raw sore ends

twigs arching up

broken curved bits

flailing down low

in a dark stormy

night of love


Oh, how I miss the sun; rays used to bring out the freckles.  Now blended in time to become sage plots; hard earned lessons patching a quilt of my life.  Bits and pieces barely held together; stitched into chaos across jowls hanging by a thread… or two.  Those that reach across and down and out; deepening at the same pace as wisdom.  Yet so few are aware of the brilliance of enlightenment.

Hide in the Quiet

floating down the great hall

like a jasmine scented breeze

meeting up only to split again

to become one for a time

in a wafting dance of wild smiles

twisting turning curls spinning 

elegantly skirting the floor

an inside spin before an outward lash

swaying for hours together before

they hide in the quiet shadows

becoming close and entangled

entwined in a gently locked grasp

softly touching throughout the night

until they are discovered at dawn

by the lonely jealous broom


there was something in the water…


It was a hard long birth,

but his mamma was a ho

so she managed to finally spit him out

although it destroyed her cow toe.

He continually walked in circles and

ran into fences, cows and trees

but you could never sneak up on him

he could see through his dangling wallies.

The other calves would skip and play

and made fun of him each day

rarely letting him play in cow games

thinking ahead, they’d be veal someday.

There was dead cow in their food and

something in the water, the farmer said

right after another calf was born

to the right of her stomach was her head.

So as she grew only a year behind him

they slowly fell forever in love

bonding as they took turns leading

they fit together like a glove.

He heard the farmer say one time

he’d never be able to sell them to anyone

which guaranteed them a long long life

and his lady would soon carry his son.

It seemed like a really hard life

having to lie down all day to eat the grass

but he knew it would be udder perfection

if he could only lick his own ass.

Let me count the ways…

one day I will do you over and over

two paths will cross horns

threesomes are not allowed

four-twenty for sure dude

five-fingered discounts count

sixpenny times four nails it

sevenfold we need a rest

eight hours minimum

nineteen year olds couldn’t keep up

tenacious tenderloins tentless in under ten minutes



Around the Bend

what lies around the bend

unknowable answers transcend

following blindly a broken path

unknowingly brings a severed wrath

twisting around once peacefully

scraping along dividing blissfully

moving banks from side to side

crashing through never breaking stride

around a corner down a hill

through a forest of shadowed will

the answers lie not a wash away

discovered in an ascending spillway

Daily Prompt: Resolved (poem)




I resolved years ago, not to be so resolute,

This D is way too tenacious, instead I became a mute.

It didn’t last long, intent on persisting,

this dogged drive barked at me unrelenting.

I stood unflinching, while it nearly drove me mad,

valiance settled in to become the latest fad.

Undaunted I rose, never to be adamant again,

a tad bit unyielding, determined to win.

I opened my mouth, spit out a staunch vindication,

got shook by a rigid and unshakable revelation.

One mustn’t always resolve an issue with willpower,

consummation is always better, if only by the hour.