Stun Run

Stun Run 

I run - through broken time,

through this slippery shock

as the chain of legacy snaps.

I run - through broken time,

blind-sided, breathless - run

through sweet grass - runner

with a shard in her shoe a lock

on backwards, onwards doors -

I run - through broken time,

pierce the screen of never - into

Yes. Now – Heart jagged sliced with

a razored tongue tone-honed into in –

Different difference - I run - through

broken time, poignantly, pathetically,

gathering the shimmering shards of

yesterday - As though they could be

restored – I run through broken time –

back to when, then, I walked through

time, heart whole, head high, smiling  

certain, that only more of the same a-
waited over a trusted, beloved horizon...
and now, in the flickering light- I let the
shards fall where they may and 
rest, letting time 
run, as it always
has - on its own. 

The Sunday Whirl

"Justice will roll down..."

"Justice will roll down ...."*

What is this thing called justice ?

ached and yearned for - believed

in as a manna'ed after life, be -

moaned as ever trampled - punishment 

or promise - a song that escapes from

parched souls - slaking or taunting thirst, 

this sound of penitence and pleading, 

collapsed in weary tear streams - a blessed

thank or outraged curse - a drive of wishes 

for of all that can be in a golden chariot of light - 

a wealthy child's party, ponies and spun sugar cake -

castles in the sky - or a fallen mud hut in fly buzzed

waste - This many faced thing - justice - 

grace notes cast,  voted each moment 

in the each and every by the each and 

every - as we stand together and apart 

all exist in the torrent spill or spray as this 

thing called justice rolls down ....or as ....

inexplicably wondrous as salmons upstream 

swim, somehow reaches up to push us all 

forward ... 

what is this thing 

called and calling 

justice ...

if....

“But justice will roll down like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” Amos 5:24,” Comey wrote on Twitter; he also cross-posted on Instagram.   

The Sunday Whirl

FOR US ALL ... IN HONOR...

FOR US ALL ... IN HONOR... 

From the films of sweet GI Joes handing out Hershey bars -
slogging through tides and finally opening the gates of Hell 
Onward through swirling years of foreign names 
memorized at school desks -that swelling sense that 
the only wars fought were those good wars against
bad guys -and then sorry - so very sorry for that
mushroom cloud that lit the sky and memory when
more brothers were called in a lottery with no purchase
necessary ... and the some who marched to defend and the others who stayed to defend - and all believed in the United States of America - one nation - though shakily indivisible... and back to films and guys with vacant eyes - and strange untold stories and not enough heroes welcomes but plenty of body-bags and counts on nightly news ... and marches there and here and - assassinations and soaring oratory - and hope and despair and change and then over... for a little while .. until here we are again...after towers fell and the new "normal" has become old hat - and still the Joes, and now Janes too, march off - now with pride though too often prompted by practicality - and the films are made in Hollywood - but no one's handing out Hershey bars. Now in this beginning gloaming of it all - ....a heroes salute for those who go so others can stay and write and pray to a Universe for a peace that will need no arms of steel to embrace us all. In honor of all...
One nation, indivisible with liberty and justice for ALL.
May we never forget the freedoms and ideals that all marched and fought, and bled and died and cried for....
We are ONE.

Beyond the dearth

Free Images : water, horizon, cloud, sky, sun, sunrise, sunset ...

Beyond the dearth

What possible pretense for the shock, jump- thump of heart hit – what possible pretense for the teeming, reaming, hulk of bulk, looming, zooming a re-route of sun sunk to deep shadow as you stand – Golemic-humanoid hypodermic huge in hand, my would-be-drip-drug of despair–destroying all that was – demolishing all that could come to be - casting a challenge to trust the simple certainty of a single next breath. What possible pretense for it all?

None.

And so, in spite of all – I shut my eyes to your new-normal present, reach behind to the joy of the past, and inhale in great gulps of sweet air - the promised future-to-come. Beyond the dearth. 

The Sunday Whirl

Road-kill

Road-kill 

the storm has ravaged the emerald fringe 

that bracketed the road - now brown bare -

ripped red road seeks the sparkled harbor -

here, there, rise small  road- kill -lumps in 

mud frieze frozen in heat - this Pompeiian 

savage struggle - I stare in the after storm 

swirl -in the emptied eye of your  maliced

mystery - I struggle to sigh from the mud- 

once-manna-frangipani-paradise lush..lost 

the storm has ravished the emerald fringe 

that bracketed the road -my charge now to

power through and find the turquoise harbor 

still shining as North Star - in your soul as on

this sparkling surreal island holder of memory 

past - beauty that brought us to our knees - 

portent of all possibility for the future to come

then and only then in gratitude and hope can 

I lift from the mud and live - 

until then I am but another 

bump of road kill flattened 

under it 

by it 

all 

The Sunday Whirl

Into The Mist

Silver Gray Mist 

Into The Mist

Now is the moment to dive

into the mist as choppy vibes

plant specious spokes in that place

there - right under each nose

 Golem spectres marching bloody

soil soaking spill-spell - unless...
Now in this moment we dive

Into the mist of indifference

Into the mist of fear

and find the

fingers of light

shining on the

other side …

Now -

is your

moment

Dive…



The Sunday Whirl