The Hard Swallow

The hard swallow. Sometimes it feels good, sometimes it challenges.

Sometimes, it hurts good and proper.

At times, it just aches.

The taxidermist did a fine job.

Time cost. Moment to moment. What system of valuation do we use to assess our own choices?

Incremental, linear.


Scales of magnitude.

The red queen nailed a few posts into the ground.

At the last peg she told Alice


Illywhackers once glib and smug now understand how

[frightened] and [scared]

are not the same.

Yet, no price replaces and no dream undistills

the realization that contrarians can be cowards.

The burning sun rises as my moon today.

A boudoir of meditation, breathwork, bareness

And open-secrets.

A saucer of milk for the feline.

Love split in two and i say i keep it with others.

The pitfall is when you need them to share it back with you on a busy, misunderstood day. Better to share it than to hoard it, but there may be

No blame, no

fingerbanging guns.

Is this when what was invaluable

becomes valueless?

The deer does not worry for the hunter.

The deer worries about all hunters,


Reel to Real

Transition equal

the changing of the

guard or the gourd?

Howl. Giggle.

Does this and that prove x, yet?

Did it hurt, ewe?

Tell me true.

Folks ain’t used to fools acting differently?

Do, do what you do.

I know. and

I do.

allow people to hear anew

Vessel unvasseled.

No game, no simple-tool, not an achievement

not religions.

Love in the key note of the tonic

of a practice of ecstasy.


Just breathe.


Method before theory, dummy.

Fear versus fright

on the fight or flight

that wilt be




Howl I smile.

New does not mean novel, dear.

Praise, you say?

What’s that like, I say?

I caw-ckle aloud but only inside.

Hun, if it is not a game then there is no

prize to win.

Just a desire to hunt and

that is regardless of the financial costs some

enobligate in self-defense.

I am fickle, am I?

I am love and love hated.

Loved hatred and hatred loved.

I submit that I am written.

Tolle lege.

The lesson is

it does not matter what

The lesson is

Don’t overlook the symbols.

I was taught we inherit the problems of a previous, now non-corporeal generation,

but, I don’t believe we can

blame ourselves for their

patterns within which we


find ourselves.

A carbonic processing of your pinot.



The guy in the corner?

A martial artist.

A soldier in disguise.

Blacklisted for the blackbelt earnt in logistics.

The Nature of the Forest Today

This is juxtaposition


This is not syncretism.


Chains trying to work in nature.

Snake espied. First thing.



Sea Foam, cool green.

Longitudinal and kindly striped


Per se.


Feedback on me.

Otherwise, the robin in the rain makes better company currently.

Such a saucy fellow.

Showers always made


…wait for it.20190608_1223286458269038784145332.jpg

The sky confused and

confusing time changing.20190608_1224274722506816231746345.jpg

Protective turns opulent in opalescence.


The beauty of opening.20190608_1233432986746953645709405.jpg

The beauty of splaying.


Time-resistant skin.

Elegant rhinosarus-dermis.

Still moist, somehow.20190608_1237112307176480307766013.jpg

Meets the confusion of curves.

Collective noun style.


In ever widening circular cases of you, ewe.

In you.

You in.20190608_1239068898421282927636058.jpg

I hear you, here.

Look at you bellowing, pretty thing.20190608_1240275914448220373648531.jpg

Cottonwood seed absorbs in its resonant, spidery remains.


Arching in ecstasy.

Boughing and bowing

Bowled over.



Create foam.


Some tire so completely

they resurface on their


and asleep.

Three such gents just this week.

Suppose it makes the fly’s feast.20190608_125309518728743505912448.jpg

Do you remember meeting here?

Where tree grows out of


Dog esshit or esshinola?


The buzzing of the approaching nearing the a’spread.


Alit on the globe.

Buzz, you say?

Humm, is what I say.

Also, Howl.






Balance & Proportion (News After Rain)

Wary berry blooms protect their own.


Just because bizarreness manifests does not mean it is unfriendly.

Though sometimes I relish your impatient sounding voice of exposition.


Who ever said it would be easy?

20190607_1210503923732410043798482.jpg The last bit of seed supplants itself, even unto the blacktop of ass-fault/y/.

 . {Hopeful} .

The early days of summer are the dying days of spring.

Seedlings waiting to naught-be



And take true blue




Dead leaves from other tomes fallen and caught by wooden paper and branches

wearing white, kid-gloves.

A lady’s fingers.

Lady-fingers. Fingers hanging down and reaching up.


The gate entering the wetland and off-leash area is lush today.

A coyote trotted before me two days ago. I thought it was a German Shepard.

He grinned from ear to ear.

The heron appeared twice.

Humid and water-heavy.

The colors hang incorrectly correct.

Let your spine chill or feel your own fear.

Impeccability in being over time without attempting but always trying.



The crane that reaches after being broken.

Its own feathers have become moss it may molt then eat

Regeneration of self.


If you want to take a tripe trip.

Drink the swill and see the seepage of the col(our)s’



Oil from the trails from shimmering slugs.


Nautical foliage present like rocks that move on accord of their own.

Forest coral corrals.

The summer eyes of the serpent peer in protective ampersand near-maleficent passion.


In through the nose, out through the nose;

In through the nose, out of the mouth;

In through the nose, out through the nose;

In through the mouth, our through mouth;

In through the nose….

Juxtapose and toes.


Disposition Reflection

Doorways, arches, and gates.


My repetitions are a fact.

Tree roots gnarl like the five fingers of one hand.


Wisps of ether become yours in the visible spectrum.




It is in our air.

Scandalous fleshed exposure of a barely leafed tree.


How can you feel on stage in a clearing alone?

Stalking words on stilts over creeks.


Let us fly our kites here.


My stone panther re-enlivens from winter as a summer moss.

Humid and heavy on the trees.


Silence. Again.

Why had she said so much?

Why did she not listen?

Again? Selfish?

She knew it kinda hurt.

So, she wo/andered as she wa/ondered.

Could 24 hours of her silence help her hear?

Speak, please.

If you wilt.

She is patient.

Eight Miles on Foot Later

I passed a snake sunnjng its belly on the path.

Unconcerned and un-aggressive.

I passed two small, white-tailed hares that quickly scampered home into the bramble.

I cried for a man i miss painfully today.