Blog Archives

Second Hand Roses


Elsewhere they tell us
Now has already happened
And is in the past

Dear Sister


The moment is always
The right moment
Months pass by
In the outside world
Lost at times
Within them we battle on

I think of you yes
From moment to moment.
Today a moment drops me here
And seems I “have” a moment
To write to you and wonder
How things are with you

You may fear you are forgotten
But this is not so and besides
Our individual identities
Are merely an illusion
A blink of the eye

Our sufferings simply illusions
We burden our “serves” with
And time another illusion
Accept, accept, accept
I shall be sending you blessings

As I always am, was and shall

Making Art


Everything breathes
As if but as a fiction
As is even a notion of time

For all this roaring
This Trumpetting horrorscope
Is in Truth both quite illusory
And also long long past
Long fixed in sticky time while

Fixed as the Mona Lisa
I step back to reflect
Or else lose myself

In my imaginings
Of the meaning
Of her smile while
While death creeps
On tiptoes nearer



It’s not just out there that there’s weather
There’s changeable weather here inside too
Heard tell they’re one and the same anyway
Beneath this sogenannten inside/outside slop
In which case all bets’re off or else ill judged
N this moment’s snap’s not the last’s or next’s
N any original thought’s worth no more than
What pads out a thousand mindless quotings

The Cost


If/As, as is surmised,
time as is/has/will be
for ever stamped suchly

then, one may wonder,
does it not perforce follow
some one immutable history

so that, even whether
following an imagined script
is or is not compulsory,

one’s apparent will is not free
as such, but simply entails
its own incumbent price?



I watch time tick by
Watching the watch watching
I pass the time

The watching eye sees
In being seen the scene seen
Meets the watching eye



Coming and going
Without going anywhere
Time an illusion
Space likewise passing the time
Our home is not made by hand

Accidental Betrayals (A Four By Six)


Adrift in this jet stream
Futures already gone
No longer remembered
Those unforgettables



Some shocks thunderbolts
Hurled across the living room
“That’s it, I’m leaving”

Some are more subtle
Tiny changes day by day
Not even noticed

An old photograph
Depicts a startling stranger
We no longer are

Just A Tick


I make this moment
That which was no longer is
And will not remain