Busy bumblebees buzz often;
A fluttering finch whistles, slight.
Do periwinkles twinkle in the moonlight?

When I close my eyes
and drift off to sleep,
I seek to fly
in the astral’s narrow halls.




Have you ever brushed a yellow Dandelion across your face?
—it’s like learning a new language.
Will they let me in on the secret [?] —
buried treasure, universe;
particles of snow drifting in the blue sky.
No, wait, its white cherry blossoms disintegrating.

HIT THE ROAD — peregrinations

One foot in front of the other,
BREATHE, carefully
Step in the mud
Will my footprint
Become a fossil – years
Past present future

Pebbles falling
From the mountain path
Bone dust & dirt
Mist rising

Life’s a series of dreams
Black Crow calling
Mischief Maker

Begin Again.

A Theater Of The Absurd Existence

Perhaps pleasing florescent Pigeons parade
Across mosaic patios to persuade
Tourists to buy throwaways in the arcade —
Rippling Rays within the branches leaves cascade —
I made many mistakes in life, a charade;
Curling around each moment, the cat stayed
Inside the domestic domicile and prayed
Asking the wind for a melody well played.