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Good To See You, Bud

GOOD TO SEE YOU, BUD

One thing leads to another
Links in an ongoing chain
A necklace to adorn our Mother
Here comes Summer again and again

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Take Time

TAKE TIME

Intimate stranger
Unknown friend
Stop dead
Take time
Take time

Look around
Out there
In here
Reflect … consider
Your input

After that
Consider this
This day
May be
Your last

Two I’s Had I

TWO I’S HAD I

One vanished
Banished
Into memory

T’other survived
Lived
To tell our tale

Time To Check Your Watch

TIME TO CHECK YOUR WATCH

You
Sit
Amazed

Is it
Now
Yet?

Seasoned Just So

SEASONED JUST SO

Spring waters flow forth
Now after Now after Now
Summer, Autumn, Wint…

Second Hand Roses

SECOND HAND ROSES

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

Dear Sister

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

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

Lodestar

LODESTAR

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

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?

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