Spinning Soul
The soul spins
merrily thru
the brain,
conjuring toys …
Category Archives: poems & short jabs
losing steam
Losing Steam
It’s hard
to believe
I used
to write
before dawn
work all
day
train for
10-K races
in the
early evening
& then
drink until
the bars
closed.
I was
just a
kid pushing
fifty.
Filed under poems & short jabs
he grew big for his britches
He Grew Big for His Britches
He grew
big for
his britches,
he stretched
beyond the
articulate &
left off
processing,
drifted toward
wordlessness.
No,
he didn’t
do all
that himself,
it was
done
to him,
from the
first day
of his
existence a
smoothness that
transcends process,
an existence
where death
has no
sting &
eternity
no meaning.
A place
beyond
that cut
him free
from all
he thought
he’d learned,
thought he was.
This is
the threshold
of a
brighter place,
a place
free of
questions &
doubt a
place where
love is
soft &
permeates everything.
Filed under poems & short jabs
looking for terror in all the wrong places
Looking for Terror in All the Wrong Places
Oppressed
minds of
high caliber
create a
backdrop reality.
Once that
happens there’s
no way to
track them.
What will
bring the
edifice crashing
down will
not arrive
at an airport.
Filed under poems & short jabs
all you need is love
All You Need Is Love
“Love?
What is it?
Most natural
painkiller
what there is.”
The last
journal entry
of William
S. Burroughs.
Coming from
someone
like Burroughs
on the
eve of
his death
this message
carries
more weight
than the
love proclamations
of Krisnanmurti
Saint Francis
Assisi &
all the
flower children
of the
Sixties.
Filed under poems & short jabs
happy stuff
Happy Stuff
78 years old.
Double aneurysm
surgery a
stroke three
hernia operations
a knee
operation &
a shitload
of shoulder
arm &
back injuries,
including
a torn
rotator cuff,
but I
can do
twice as
many windows
in a
day now
than I
could 35
years ago
when I
started out.
But I
also feel
twice as
worn out
at the
end of
the day
& often
crash into
a two-hour
nap waking
up not
knowing where
I am.
Why don’t
you write
more happy
stuff some
people have
asked &
I’m tempted
to wrestle
them to
the ground
jam their
feet into
my shoes
& set
them walking.
Filed under poems & short jabs
