finally typing up all my daily scribbles…
remember these are my thoughts and observations in streaming words…

Evergreen Depths

Robins chitter from Evergreen depth;
worms safe under snow blanket
at least from sharp beaks and rain.
Branches overwhelmed ricochet
day and night; departed from their
growth position, they reside on crusted snow.
Partially entombed limbs mimic new growth;
ice warfare’s casualties scattered knee deep.
Voiceless victims fed into mulch shredders.

Electric Light

Do deer miss street lamps to light their way?
Do raccoons stumble without motion detecting lights?
If so the power outages must drive them nuts too.
Imagine opossums tripping over yard objects;
mice bumping into walls, owls missing those mice…
impatiently grumbling until unnatural light source is renewed
cursing their adjustment to human’s electric illumination.


Night’s Value Scale

Prior night’s value scale
black, middle gray to off-whites
plunges into archaic darkness
with electricity’s departure.
Relic from primitive time…
pitch darkness caresses landscape.
Hopelessly addicted to power,
night resumes its lonely minutes
illuminated slightly from snow.

For her, a preferred state reemerging
from crisp New England’s evening walks;
bitter cold, star dusted features emerge
in low land reflective white snow.
Corgis prance tossing crystals upward
into black space…

trail of glasses

Least I know where I’ve been.
Pleasantly surprised at times…
what was I doing there?
Store bought magnifiers
conveniently misplaced
throughout the house leaving
a trail of eye glasses



Silhouette figments
gather into a formation;
concentric rings
rim the corners of vision.
Flares of light flash and blink…
significant loss in daylight
noticed more in darkness
despite loving the night.
Would be such a cosmic joke…
an art studio but an artist without sight.


Wake up call

Audible, barely…
whispering voice
calls her name.
Old ears strain…
you used to hear a butterflies wings.
Such a soft gentle voice calling her name
in protruding morning light…
a dream?
Awake, spooked,
is it time?
Do I remember you?
Nothing more…
a familiar male voice,
a wakeup call
so soft and loving.


Nature’s Imposed Respite

A week without keyboarding words…
Mother Nature imposed an electrical constraint.
Magic of snow turned to ice terror –
is there anything more to say?
Facing a darkened house,
listening to branch explosions…
pen doodles useless circles
evading the daily discipline;
nothing forthcoming except
pop and snap of overloaded limbs.
Passive ignorance floats on surface
filled with doodles and blobs of candle wax…



Please do not remove…
I belong here for a while longer.
Ingrained habits and all,
including a wavering indifference.
There’s still time to prove you wrong.
Perhaps another twenty years going with
the repudiation of another day another chance…



Sunday’s are great for daydreaming.
I’m having great daydreams about…
not so much a daydream,
more a steady stream of cirrus clouds
wrapping the sun in gauze.
It’s woven cotton transcending
lamination of us lowly beings scattered
in erroneous clumps across the world.
Myriad layers of human thoughts drift
in subconscious rivers tapping into reality
and that is what I like to call a down-grade.
That’s not how to come out of day or night…



I feel like death,
terrible sleep, kill me!
That’s not a death wish,
that’s a major reaction
to vacuous dream time.
I need my dreams.
Without starlight escapades,
I am useless come morning’s invitation.
Over time I switched from bright mornings
to late night wanderings…
wet or dry – clouds or clear sky,
I step into the night
pulling the comfort of obscurity into sleep.



Too busy for words
Actions took over idle moments…
Words lost to chores in the never
ending race to complete
impossible lists in waking hours.
Filling minutes, every second with busy
locks out the dark thoughts, keeps
body moving toward important goals,
quiets the rage gnawing outward.



Exempt from decision…
do you want to keep…
insert whatever the object is.
Why do you…?
Question questions…
sorting through a life.
Trying to put a cork in the hourglass
exhaustion settles in…



Pencil ached to slide across page
but her hand remained still.
Embedding wood pattern
into soft area between calluses,
she wordless.