always transitional

this is the moment

we find ourselves

ignorant and lost

hung upon a cusp

another idea

malformed and old

gnaws open bones

to lick our marrow

with trees being trees

we do not notice

the iron sentinels

stolid as chessman

they seem to say—

do not pass

we’re surrounded

yet we are in love

(October 25, 2019)

One’s End’s Ambiguous

The labyrinth

bends into itself:

one thought feeds

bits of fear to the next;

until, teeth crack

on broken bone,

and it ends

without a beginning

to begin again.

One’s end’s ambiguous

as one’s beginning.

Indecisive and vague,

the end’s no different

than any contingent.

The end ends

with a flailing

of the mind

through a stark


of where we are,

where we have been,

and without a why

to justify

the confusion

of the scattered pages

across the floor,

and the ash in the air.

(May 12, 2019)

accents shift

from one neighborhood

to the next — one town

over– no more sounds

like yours or your friends

at the corner pub

where even the odd

and unloved fit warmly

at a table in the dark

where the fog follows you

home into a darker wood

until your voice tangles

among incestuous roots

and a knife draws

a line along your throat

at the possibility

of a misunderstanding

(April 22, 2019)


one stands always at a beginning

a new door opens to a passage

which leads to another door

which opens wherever you are

there are no keys no locks no doors

only you standing within time

in motion without moving

yourself a passage a sluice

through which apparitions slip

taking on your form like robes

then quickly cast away replaced

by yet another without end

each moment embraces death with a kiss

each moment finds your self reborn

(April 16, 2019)

Preponderance of the Great

from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress

I worry too much,

or not enough,

yet do nothing.

Here at home

cats curl

in our laps;

when friends visit,

the table’s full,

laughter and wine

flow unabated.

Far away

along the edges,

below the ice,

cracks appear;

and, the ground shifts

beneath us.

(March 7, 2019)