The Three Knights

A black bow tie
The suit pristine
Meticulously cleaned

Even more so with
Someone else

and Closer

A tie
A knot
A broken wine glass on the floor by our feet
A splash of red amongst so much promise

The suit worn with flashes of sun
with flashes of smiles and pearls hidden by curled lips

A splash of red in a kiss
The glimmer of gold on a twisted ring on finger

Bound white
Bound red
Bound gold

All tied white

Brother my Brother
Your horn blows
My shades nod down
Let me buy you lunch

What has happened?
Can you taste the money in the air?

My phone can only tell you notifiers
Blurbs and bleeps
Leave that message
Coordinate that instant
Press that moment

With touch
screen digitality
Ten fingers to count the benjamins
of fleeting seconds

To get to the
“How are you?’
“Aren’t you going to get over this?”
Here take my card and give me a call

Something is bound to open up.

Wind blown swept
In tan
Square in curve
A laugh in place
Free to misplace
The known time

This is the goal
A far flung arrow
Chased to meet
To discover the target

what was once lost
moments ago
maybe today
maybe two ago
the forgotten self
left behind
just to feel anew

your squeeze
of drops
of thought out tomorrows
caught in a swirling daze
of flight
and transition

to be
momentarily abreast
to rest

a blaze



The Joy of the Firefly

Love in flight!
Witter away
Dark’s twilight
in Flickered display

The bees rest
The work of the day

The fly hides
The soiled away

The rat scampers
The tail end of hunger’s may

Green bends firmly limp
In the shuttering lamp
A golden aerial stamp

The Strength of Serenity

Wishing and praying alone will not transform your mind; you also need reason—reason ultimately grounded in your own experience.- Dalai Lama

Older a child,

Looks no longer to

The flower

but instead sees the bee

and with the bee chases


His steps follow as long as he can

only to let go what he cannot hold in the palm of his hand

The scent of the rose is gone.

The day comes and so does the night

Sleep and a waking

Another bee and another flower

The child picks up his feet

Picks up his shoes and places them at the door

He calls home

And stares down the stairs

And awaits the comfort away from the play

She comes home an hour later

His face is muddy with delight

A door opens

A welcome wipes the exterior

and departs an evening, to open up later,

the next day, to a vast road to follow

Shoes are tied

Hands bound forward in pockets

And change jingles

the sound connects the foots steps

The sound of the bell connects the dream

The study makes the work

The work makes the man

The foot steps heavier

The comfort is gone

Brutal and Short

A Howl

The moon climbs to where the fingers point

A readily made object

To object

A mirror dream rowed boat ashore

A small fox wets its tail

The pack catches up

The dogs bark

And the waves lap the shore

Ferried on with word and sound

Carried like a fish on a hook

Love knows its bound

Beyond fascination

to the point where the recognition

places correctness

in a sacred pause.