I felt the weight of the cascade of reveries as I walked quietly on the cobblestone so hesitantly 

Oodles and oodles of fragmented memories retraced so delicately
I strolled in my favorite place with the rest of me 

I wanted feel all the emotions at once to pacify my mind 
my plan de vida is to rinse these dirty hands of mine 

I’m fine, I just like check in with myself from time to time

As you slip out of the inner darkness
I shout out incoherent words
then lose myself at our first touch.
I marvel at the smallness of your feet
As you reach for my comfort
With your unsure hand

Keeping grasp of my sheltering hand
we rock away the darkness
and provide each other comfort.
Testing untried words
And rising on unsteady feet
Nothing now is safe from your questing touch

With one last touch
You let slip the confine of my hand
And I listen to the fading scuffle of your feet.
But in the night time darkness
You still call for me with soft words
For me to give you comfort

Your strength gives me comfort
And I marvel at your steady touch
But still I call out last words
Of advice and grasp your hand
To remind you that I will still be here for you in the darkness
As you walk towards the future with questing feet

You walk now with firm feet
Towards him and he gives you comfort
In the still and quiet darkness.
Yearning for his touch
With it’s strong and loving hand
As you murmur indistinct words

I listen to your joyful words
That describes the smallness of your new daughter’s feet.
Walking with a tired gait, I am grateful for your hand
That steadies me and gives me comfort
And your soft touch
That soothes me while I await the coming of the darkness.

I sense the touch of your hand and the love of your words
As I slip into the outer darkness, I remember the wonder of your tiny feet.
The memories give me comfort, as I no longer feel your touch.

I would have answered your call, but I was grieving. 

Our gods have been shuffled 
like old playing cards,
greasy and secretly marked.
My small circle of friends & family
contains a myriad of divine beings
who each have their own way
of butting in or leaving us alone.
I dare name none of them.

But it does seem that they all play
the game of chance with the old “What If”
conundrum. What if when my papa
was running numbers in ‘30s Brooklyn
the longshoremen’s double hadn’t hit
and left him holding the bag?
In a story too long to tell it was
either go to Nazi Europe, marry
my mom and sneak her out to America
or die. God’s lucky number turned up for papa
and I exist. What are the odds of that?

Boy oh boy,
This poetry knocks me out lately 
I’m worried it doesn’t have the same effect
As it used to
I get so tired
It feels like a boulder

I love words
They have put bandages all over me
But with these repressed memories
I get scared to see them on paper,
On a computer,
On a laptop

Long are the days of crumpled up paper wads 
Surrounding a desk
It’s backspace,
Delete, 
Nevermind,
Forward

Backspace isn’t the same effect as a crumpled piece of paper 
Maybe i’ll get out my pen

Sometimes it seems there’s no
in-between

like the volume on the tv
My hearing likes to play tricks

or a love-hate relationship with food
Enjoyment and resentment coincide 
in a crinkly bag of M&Ms

or the fact that my children
grow up before my eyes
Happy to see their wins
Sad about selfish loss

How can there be no 
in-between
when that’s the very place
life chases dreams

Laugh at the tricks
the candy
the kids
According to Mamaw
it’ll add years to my life
in-between

The song to mark the last

A winged being emerges from the clouds blowing a trumpet.
Coffins burst open and people emerge
with arms outstretched
standing resurrected
and ready to begin a new life.  

When the call for change is heard from within
and you heed the call of the Divine Messenger
know that there will be a new beginning
after the death of an old way of being.  

But when the great work of transformation is complete
and you follow the higher calling of your soul—  

There is no fear
on that judgement day
only rejoicing
having shed the ego
and embodied your True Self.

When I was a child, albeit 

Same thing erry day
bout to drive me crazy
Whew I can’t take this shit!
Same ole shit different day

same video played
right audio/left audio
break net 7/back on net 7
FLASH ON/SPECIAL REPORT

Shut up Biden
Shet up Trump
Go to hell Netanyahu
Die Putin die/FLASH OFF

Stop talking Gail
Nobody cares Vlad
No more poetry Nate
Speak up Tony

We messed up the planet
Whose to blame-all of us
Burn baby burn
Flood baby flood

How hot is it?
too hot
But it’s freezing in here
That’s the problem.