a coruscant dawn

a coruscant dawn



once we are untethered from this land, this earth, this gentle crust that has so cradled us, bound not by laws of man and nature, released from the bonds of gravity, perhaps only privy to the forces that guide energy, there is only the all night, daunting, no, the canvas on which, for there is no sunset there, out there, beyond our protective dome, in the complete dead calm sea of everything, space, space unto space into never ending expansion, and we shall go, maybe there are shepherds there as well, certainly paths to go, but no, there are no sun sets there, and no true to us eyes to see them, there is only dawns, perpetual on different spectrums, distance means nothing when time means nothing, and there we will be, drifting in a sparkling sea, a divine conjuring of a coruscant dawn

cast away.

cast away.

the waning late summer sun
resting on the face
of a golden still pond
this- is- calm… (pause; inhale… hold… hold… exhale…)
“pinch me my darling,
for surely I travel in the realm of dream”
but no, a sweet captive
of the great blue marble
cast out upon the blackest sea.

notes.. and never forget, we are all on the miracle ball, sure, other life is probably out there but hey, for all we know right now we might be alone, and this is the gift of our home, the goldilocks zone, this wonderful place, even the grittiest corners are better than the alternative but we should strive to bring light to all… at least that is what I see when I catch a quick reflection of a sunset in a pond off the parkway on the way home, horrid traffic, angry drivers, asphalt plows that have flattened forests, but nature still remains, look around… (and this piece wrote itself when I was driving home on the parkway tonight, right before exit 135 (clark) there is a body of water, a pond I suppose, not sure, but it is there, I would love to photograph it, or film it, but pulling over there would be dangerous, but it looks so alluring every day, it makes me smile, the sun setting over this little unknown body of water, regardless of what is going on in the world, there is windows there, thanks to nature, look through them for a little relief… the opportunities are there)
in a simple mirror found…

in a simple mirror found…

the birdfeeder

wrought iron
ancient tower
in look
sold and bought
at a garden center
in years I might have forgot
some winters to fill you up
going bare barren
for an entire season
no good reason, just the passing
forgetting to refill the silo
forgetting t’was even there, at times
the nature of gravity and consumption
in the wind, swaying

a common winter night
not an occasion to stop-
so filled to the top
and spilt over
not a delicate affair
no, certainly not
like an old man in the park
shuffling hands in a paper bag, for company
more organized perhaps
but much the same rouse
much the same draw

and I can not control those who come
who find this rest stop
and sometimes a flurry
a gang of rooks, a jail break frenzy romp
rather than the gentle sweep and peck
the subtle moves of anxiety
the back and forth with caution
of those who might be prey
or at least garnish so
little ones bounce from limb to perch
or a big blue jay swoops in
also on the lurch

sometimes I wish-
to script upon the seed
with the breed
I wish to attract
oh, silly me
haven’t we all done
this very same act?
(in our own reality)

based on the real, just my bird feeder swinging on the tree outside my bedroom window and the implications there… life is a strange and wonderful thing. so…. what do you think ?

and for any noobs: (I promise to be gentle) I write in flash form, maybe my work is not perfect but it is a flash photo of what comes out of my mind and pen (ok, keyboard mostly)… so, just so you know how it works around here, this is all just me throwing my breath out there, so if you read all this, or any of this, thanks for your cherished time, I appreciate it.

rebirth (perhaps)

rebirth (perhaps)

if I could live my life over again
would I be
the only one
or given a new life
an empty page
or might I prefer
to hold the knowledge
I have gained,
to start in soil
as a sprout
without the memory
of the tree
that spawned me
and set me free upon this earth
as a plotting acorn
a cloud of dandelion seed
a coconut carried to a different shore
on an indifferent sea,
or spirit energy
transformed back to light
and reborn
from forth a celestial womb
to begin the cycle all-together
and all anew (on the universe’s cue)

notes… now that I have been birthed, and know my worth (the universe decided I was ok to be born, I am here), should I trust that to be reborn again- or in some other form. thoughts ?


that, so hear!
riding on the wind,
the cry of the wolf
rises up on the moonlit night
piercing all forward and all behind
crests effortlessly over my ramparts and walls
directly into my soul
directly to my heart;

for the grey that inhabits my crown
for the once saplings now laid down with leaf
for seasons past and lives have cross’t,
that pierce of hers-
the cost does haunt;

still, might I lie mostly wake
thoughts can hardly break the lure
of that call of the earthen core herself-
nor noble sword for which I held
nor conquered foe for which I thought I felled
upon my knees can not relent
spine down my soul can not repent;

for she shall always be my queen;-
in times of youth when all was the golden
eternity was upon and nothing spent
the perfection of lying together in our bed
at night, until the soft light morn
the supple fit of our perfect form,
how insidious human works did invade that space
worldly words n’ deeds the insurrection led by my disgrace;

a guise, so easy to see with hind
so easily remembered, twice fold in kind
a fool’s errand to decide by one the best for two
rather than raze the building to see again
the gleaming foundation; (abandoned dream)
a fate of two disparate streams that became a river
spilled into an endless ocean of the unity of love
dried up in a short sighted season of my famine
the destruction of a singular decision is more than a scar
heavier than an anchor of the base most stone
a crushed trachea trained under heavy breath,
like a collapsed tunnel under a grand mountain’s ground;

sometimes there is the air of escape,
from miles, from towns, in the arms of others,
but when, that call hears out, and reaches these ears
I can not bear to wonder what else, and despair.

notes… I shall never forget, I want to, I want to find that next love, but it has not materialized so far… I feel I am wired different, time and years feel like nothing to me, although not everyone is wired the same way, today could be yesterday or the day I left her, it all feels the same, regardless of time and space…

the path of our own foolishness

the path of our own foolishness

am I just a gallant buffoon
or a stark raving prancing baboon
shaking my glowing red ass
under the auspice of a harvest moon
without the pride earned by rudolph
nor the purpose with which to lead
except into a tail spin speed
corkscrew map points to the ground
round ‘d’ round ‘d’ round the night
a carousel, a bumblebee in flight
for one passenger though
my bags packed with thoughts
all they might find, in a crash in the dark
compacted into
this little black box
that lies, in abject presentation
and so I will dance, which
for the diminish, succumbs
the coma of night is comfort
the comfort of numb.

sometimes we all act the fool, in jest I must accept not reject this abject part of my humanity… for at best I am my worst and my best is met beyond my expectations my pet, but I bet I do not know anything yet, with four decades under belt I have felt many things and still stumble like a child learning first steps, because there are always more first steps, there is always first steps unless you live life standing still, but then you would be a dummy, both figuratively and literally… or maybe just a man named quinn…

the strangeness of inspiration, so muse

the strangeness of inspiration, so muse

time to put away the winter things
sleds in sheds
boots in darkness
closet corners full
less dress
car packed full
an adventure to take
under the summer sun

notes… went back in my time machine, well, not really, of course, I WOULD share that with you, if I could, of course… but I pulled up an old snippet from the year 2019 and it spoke to me, I guess, sub-consciously, and so this came about, of it, that union of my own old thought, and now, how things change, and will, always, move forward, so I should, I am trying… how hard, depends who you ask, who wants to be honest in all that, who wants to push, even if we know the cliff could be right there, I should get busy, have more urgency, but I wrap myself in the every day race and tail, reflecting on it does not move the needle, which I need to do before I am quite dead, literally.

the long wedding…

the long wedding…


should I?
marry you
now or then
why wait?
why the rush?
the perfect mate;
so let the courtship begin
and never end.
unless I should begin again;
reincarnation or resurrection-
so let the lantern be lit
so I may follow
into the path of light