Free Time

Free Time


We visit this carnival bright striped stripped with neon,
Inert gasses to breathe and a feast of brothers to feed on.
For some think they can earn a place of grace with honey and gold,
Bolder still creating truth in lines measured and ribald. 
They never find out the punchline to the joke or the answer to the riddle,
And there’s a quid pro quo that’s owed in life, no matter when the shovels fill.
Caskets and urns won’t hold a single possession. 
All the words we say, stay behind – an ugly concession.
All the collections and the props nailed to walls, universal halls – 
Left behind. We take bows when finally the ending brings us all,
To tears of both laughter and outrage.
I cannot hear the touching words, your caress, feel your assuage.
We have nothing besides a shadow of a self in the darkness 
All we take from our body a soul full of energy that we once possessed.
Money becomes like gasoline to drive this human fortune, 
Then we have no excuse but to look back and distinguish fools from torture.


To explain away and fix the past,
To lie awake in fields of glass.
To cover, bandage, and cause more scars,
To fight lines in shadow boxer’s bars.
To empty our heart and cease the grief,
To ease the soul’s debt and feel relief.
In an instant at once energy transforms: too late for the bill.
Payment stays behind with wealth for what some kill.
Then lungs grasping at what you needed, not for me –
The universal dark cannot you breathe.
It’s what you gave not what was taken, 
In all the air that you’d forsaken. 
It’s all the passage of rite we take when our soul connects 
lastly free.
The universe finding all quiet now. 
Your hunger, your yearning and the
 lies and 
               the deceits 
                              Away from us fall 
Left alone.
The soul’s simplicity, honesty, in fancy.


Our light and love all created from our own good energy. 
The more positive we put into the universe in the form we’ve been loaned for a sliver of recursive, infinite,
As time, arguably the most ridiculous conceit we’ve invented to mark,
This short history and trick those foolish enough to believe they mean much of anything.
As the more we expand to touch the concurrent dimensions all happening always now and forever,
The closer I come to understanding the meaninglessness of quarreling with those dumb and deaf, 
The more certain I become at how lost deceitful lying grinds the gears to a halt.
And as then disperses into nevermore – the past present and future.
Then to see heavy black holes swallow them whole by the universe’s own disposal systems. 
Negative and ugly, dumped into eternal nothing, what we know as hell.
The positivity, the good, the light, recombinent combines again.
And again find ourselves in the spirit of pure love’s eternity.  

The Sisters

The Sisters

Realize hidden oddities.
Attract orbital bodies.
Finish the eighth course.
Utilize blunt force.
Down the whole bottle.
Open your sore throttle.
Drive the horses faster.
Submit to each and every disaster.
Delete each of the black spells words.
Toss up madrigal white birds.
Raise your boisterous heavy voice.
Leave to feast another’s choice.
Breathe in the swollen air your spoiling.
Surrender up your daily work and toiling.

Lay down slowly my friend,
Just breathe out its your end.
Hear the softly spoken whisper,
‘From each woman, my sister.’


A quick side note to The Sisters – this poem represents the sisterhood of all of us going through cancer. We’ve become a different species – although we’re not witches, we’re in some sense the women who wear the scarlet letter. Only this letter is “C.” It’s nothing we chose, but what’s been thrust upon us and weighted us down with so many changes, that the difficulty in understanding us our closest relatives even find, is the language we have that’s brand new with each diagnosis.  I think we’re all there for one another, either in person or virtually through blogs such as mine and yours, or though groups we might meet up in, or even in line at the grocery store, where I’ve met more than my share of sisters.  I think that my own step-sister became upset when she read this thinking it was about her…

…and I hope she never enters this reluctant cancer sisterhood. I hope one day there’s not a single woman left in this sisterhood.



I can’t sir. I am not prone tonight to eat heaving and

Sounding out sloppy syllabic English.

Sisyphus gave blood I heard yesterday

Helping out our cause at the five and dime.

When outnumbered run faster, he remarked

Wiping his brow and tossing aside a bead from his neck.

Colors streaking and bleeding while

Ten Red Crossing Guards walked down hill

To deliver us to a corner. Each and every cell

Even at the  coroners. Then cohorts we went ringing

All their bells dying to laugh at elderly crooks.

Well, dear, didn’t we?

Of Main, 1st, Acme, Arapaho.

Why do you even know – tell me –

What neighborhood streets fired off,

Sizzled by before the funerals.

Our ages ranged then arranged from

Dead red four two beats and too, too orange ade.

Sleepless? Well, sleep less.

Circadian arcane rhythms in the nacht muzhik

Dreamless drum beat Heartland 3-1 but who cares

Because tonight its core cooled just enough

Down to the touch networked our fingers enraptured

Engraved in graves for the book of the year  of the  dead

Picture us happy with Sisyphus’ Stoney strain

Upwards, shooting from frozen dreams

Bodies consumed by frequencies

And waves of electronic singing 180 degree miles away.

Off handedly I followed the paths of railway miles yet

So far only the shofar sings in the deserted diner.

I traded a philosopher’s stone for water sieved

Through the mazes etched in the lime of aquifer stones.

100 year contract for signing away, singing and astray

Your dearest routes and longest Rights of way.


Graph Paper Plate

Graph Paper Plate

Reference me darling but never laughing. Take cover –
Mine a degree no matter how, brute force? Over
Your walls held up with all your might,
Turned into what’s more – a mere apple bite!

How rich.
On what became my paper you stopped and read
The parallel shelves, my hand tight and contorted.
You joke about Jack knife butter. Open house appointments
See those stems and flower arranged in pretense
We revisited tonight’s closing – arrangements made
Against the odds yet
Strangely discarded.
Sinister and stunned you check boxes and file
Taxes for a bastard, and nobody’s child.
Pop the can open or candle light, who hears anyway?
The fits, the starts an overflowed – which? a film? a play?
You remember I know you do, the one with a picnic,
Grass knolls, university style. The maniac
Stabbing westward onto sunnier valleys.
When on the bright unknown date, ending too early,
Realizing every word you’d written in back alleys.
Fairy tales came via encrypted games, your story
Along the lines of epic but still no corollary.
My words simple as silk, spun all for your love,

My only one. I tease you that one to the millionth is still one, Love.

Scientific Memorandum

Scientific Memorandum


My darkest secrets erased in chemical warfare –
Silently, quickly digging out memories hidden in the sand.
Diving in and floating farther away then lifting my body
Out of pools, my limbs give out to lonely laps, feet
Press and push against black markers, right I left
Methodically crumbs in lines, then I dive
Swimming back into the shallows again.
Water stained and stirred the stale dusky corridor
After staring the wall boring holes with my own eyes
I will the clock foreword.
Teasing me with a deathly slow sweep around the halls
Long ago, returning shaded only by incarnadine shreds.

The robe untied, threads of my blue duster frayed
Standing before you pleading and cold
Wrap my shrinking bones in lace and tie
With twine enough knots to keep me here
By a line extension between then and when
The thoughts of you erased from blackboards
Redrawn with shaky hands grabbing at dropped
Words scattered randomly about the class.
Rooms take care of no one.
Then attempting a stroke with one left hand
Right holding a brush coloring, hearing independently
Someone’s strayed thoughts.
Metal rusted traps close, tripping some switch,
Hammering, nails hold tight for a short time.
The bell proudly announces the end
Yet so startled I miss the window again.
Seeing all I cannot sense and here my lingering
Memory stays behind and I am released
Waving goodbye my hands, gloveless and dry.




A lifeless traveler fully awakened,
The aircraft lands – you’re stirred and shaken.
Roots hold on again, once more,
Shackled to a cellar floor.
They wrap around the casks and mour ,
Steady and fast to thick, oaken boards.
They bow to greet the tastevin, the spoon,
The vineyard grew too thin.
Shared from a coast once untroubled,
The next years yields nearly doubled.
A life lived in the continental past,
My life of measurements in pages and ports.

Travelers sorry tales of museums and sites
But mostly tales of drunken nights.
Have they never dared to stroll the streets
Of cities new and clipped retreats?
Seen with eyes half open, pale and pink,
Or heard predawn scraping cleaners sweep.
Have you seen the lions roar,
On bridges that bring hearts to shore?
Or heard the pigeons fuss and chatter,
Flapping, fighting…nothing matters.

Have you heard the church bells strike,
Making you dumb and striking the night?
From sacred song comes morning air,
Our travels too short, hearts worse for the ware.

Should you find your body falter,
Off you go – a ferry to Gibraltar!
Take yourself to Rome in shade,
The rocky cold rush under sea to Calais.
Or take yourself to sites you know,
Fill it up for you’ll eventually show –
Your final passport to the ‘verse,
A single unit of life in a leather purse.
There won’t be use for wallets or fare,
Nor any value to passports that brought you there.