Too many details [in life] confuse me.

Why can’t homo sapiens learn how to JUST be?


A bird scurrying across the sidewalk’s basic

focus – deciphering “our” mosaic.


Math’s solvable problems are named trivial.

Is “difficult mankind’s only pivotal…?


Listening to birds sing soothes the soul;

a plain pleasant pleasure which makes me bold.


I think we need to harvest trivial.

Ordinary” is the foundation of experience.


Life’s line-up is delusional – on a skewer.

When the “ONE” step aside the number’s fewer;

But the adult male Goose doesn’t think like a ruler.

The goslings, exposed, create a fierce maneuver.

To the adult Geese those small goslings are LUNAR.

The line-up doesn’t mean squat to a sincere user.

It’s what’s in the heart that counts — a fact none truer.


(And the Goose honks its displeasure at human interference.)





Driving along the back alleys I came to a fork in the road and stopped dead.  Do I go left into the jagged woods where I can almost measure, with my mind’s eye, the length between each pair of trees, twin souls?  Or should I go to the right, the straight and narrow bordering the sun stroke field, butterflies humming in the tall grass?  I can’t decide!  I ponder Robert Frost’s Road Not Taken and wonder … what about a Double Attack?  Could I do both at once?  This is going to take some thought.