From the cage

I’m lost in my beard about you

Googled to endlessness in hairy complexity

Sacred intentions aflame

My blood flowing from the pomegranate seeds of rapture

And I swear to the most true who comes supplying my passionate sanity

Invented my willpower to be right by you with a justice that sees well

Then returns to his sacred cave of contemplation for a while

Just may stay there away from the mutating clang revolutions

Then a sudden change of mind to focused on a preferred Koccomammy spin

Back again to the strength within overcoming dilemma

Then hung for a new pattern of leagues under the sea transformation

And just how well did you in the underworld, returning back again?

Shaking the cage for attention


mutual fond acquaintance

It has been raining mountain raining

All around my highland life three days

Nothing better, I note I keep saying to me

Shades of grey, near white to black, tumbling dark rumbles

Confused crazy monsoon system smiling me down

And I smile too, so uptown-glad to be around you


like isolating a thought for survival’s sake

A cleanse, anticipating a reframe,

to be rid of it, glory in the ridden.

How does that seem, I say to me.


Yet, not so.  

New pathways of thought agreeing,

blending a new understanding,

neuronal shades triggering perhaps a new groove swagger,

synchronized with balanced sameness

leading to an overlay of thought correcting.


I related that way to your revision in thought about me.

Analyzing cold about it,

focused on a desperate fantastic system that attempts to regulate

the jungle of insane moon emotions I’ve turned out to be.



good bad

bad good



good dream

bad dream

time and thought breathe


I’ll be stepping out

With all due respect to being aware

Familiar with your mind’s employment

I choke on the abuse of ‘in the moment’

What really, dear, are you saying, oh my

Listen. It is a novel about shadows dancing

Tones to catch, fluctuations in beat tapping, the wide-ranging moody blue of it

Intricacies in a vibe trip reverbing, the message after the sound

Mystic Voices rattling chains in the fullness of black

Music, even if it may not seem to be

The body, swaying with obscurities in the dark, feeling  

With thought whispering, purring, never-ending-along


Notes from Falcon Night

A smiling PTA lady radiating goodwill blinded me.

She sat at these tables with several others, the ticket place.

It was her quick, sometimes prolonged glance

that now, while I analyze, had a rhythm,

fixed me in a trance you know, surprisingly.

I question her intentions, she must have anticipated just game tickets.

Gracious, I bought too many tickets, a PTA membership, meal tickets

a car, a house, likely a bridge too, and I’m just an adoring grandpa.

Anyway, she lit the fuse for a fun time, very, really unexpected.


The principal was sitting for a minute at a dunk tank.

Normally an austere good gent, hard worker, Does his job!

The scene of him struck hilarious. I laughed, giggled, hooted.

Then I bumped into an awareness I may be too loud.

Two sixth grade Hispanic boys were winding up,

firing these big bean bags at the dunk target, smack ack ack.

He flailed, went down, much worse than the ice bucket challenge.

He thrashed out of the water, shivered and tried to smile while shaking.

I had to find a restroom immediately.


Doc, my two-year blonde mop-haired obsessive g-son

won rolling a carnival game ball the correct distance.

He stared down a red spiked rubber football for the prize.

We then proceeded to redeem the meal tickets where he spotted

basketball hoops by the playground.

So, I held paper plates full of hotdogs, chips and cookies,

while he tried to throw the football in the hoop, 30 minutes.

None of the meal was eaten. I forgot where I put the plates.

He cried when I finally took his ball, forcing him to leave.


The old lady wanted to speak with Aces 2nd grade teacher.

Had to let him know we were flying out with Ace on the 30th.

Mr. B was sitting by large speakers bumping a little insanity.

I have trouble hearing others even during quiet times.

I opted to find Scaddy who was competing in bounce cages.

I went that way, Gertrude went to the speakers, Doc got lost.

Five minutes worth of me almost knocking others down,

I found him finally in a bounce cage where he was too little to be.


It was about time to go home then

A drink was on my mind.

Hell, it’s a Friday night OK.

As the evening entertainment proceeded

I did think the natural high at Falcon Night

By far exceeded the imbibition’s.



I peeked around the garage corner,

secret mode,

wild mind quiet.

All insanity breaking loose with two Blue Jays

heckling the birds who are going without,

jaaay jAyying the early morning blue fade skies and me whom they spied.

Flying jumping stretching through branches,

jungled big Maple tree,

every blue feather celebrating the variety of seeds I treasure boxed there.

Damn fun-noisy-beautiful sky pirates, a severe howdy to you too.


The Scene

Out there performing xyz

the scene changes to whatever it happens to be,

fascinating shades of all the colors.

I’ll recite them: all my grandson’s colored pencils,

rocking me blasted,

shining sweet fascination,

meandering prettily,

hypnotizing me about,



twinkling me to delight.

And on and on is way ok


The letters

Disquisition acquisition eia aia in sound

expanding and then back

a web, mesh catch


Snapped into it

A Mengs approved voice blow

latched me in sound

Salute, Senor Sorcerer


Lunar Kind

Full of showing his gifting delight,

wrapped in enchantment,

hasn’t a dime,

Mr. Moon high fives the night.

“Priceless” he whisper sighs,

“Diamonds are free in my godzillionaire sky.