February sun

Far from perihelion

Weak yet effective

Leading sandhill cranes

Ever northward through the teak blue sky

Dodging Dakotas and Cherokees

Not knowing the weakness of their cause

Flying home too early

Going the way of the wooly mammoths

Lifted and dragged by warm pockets of air

Isobars and isotherms

Wingtips spread and dried

February sun of a

Whither goest thou

Towards the warming

Towards the warning

The false dawn

The February sun



Plaintive Little Songs

Voices in the night

Echoing under a viaduct

Sound baffling

Splashing off puddles of rain

Voices in the night

Sound baffling

Plaintive little songs

With sad refrains

Baffling sound

Strangely familiar

Familiar yet strange

Voices in the night

Moving in and out of range

Of sight

Of sound

Of hearing

Baffling sounds

Plaintive voices

Sad refrains

Voices in the night

Shrieks of laughter

Shrieks of pain

Plaintive voices in the night

Fading in and out

Whispering words of love

Answering with words of doubt



Voices in the night

Comforting the sick

Healing little wounds with quiet words

Opening up the pores

Of fascinating people

And insufferable bores

Voices in the night

Searching for the morning light

Running from a fight

Compliments and slights

Voices in the night

Sleepless lonely whores

Listening for an answer

Behind open windows and closed doors

Listening to voices in the night

Somewhere outside the window

Sound different than before

Starting with a murmur

Escalating to a roar

Murmuring voices in the night

Murmuring plaintive little songs

Melody spot on

Words somehow wrong

Dont know where they are going

Dont know where they belong

Voices in the night

Disturbing peoples peace

Voices in the night

Never cease



I am caught

In the silky machinations

In the sticky tendrils

Tiny grasping swinging ropes

Of the web

That you weave

Is this about you

The tendrils about you as you squirm

We are caught

In the tendrils

Swinging in the gentle wind

Of your web of

Reaching for a word

For a thought

Caught in the tendrils

The machinations

The silken caresses

The sssssss’ss

The tresses

The web and the whorf





Nobody is perfect

Everybody has something

Jesus wandered in the desert

For Forty days

Forty nights

No comb

No brush

No pew to kneel on

No fatted calves

Hair a mess the whole time

I am talking about Jesus H Christ

With his hair afright

So stop trying for perfection

Try to be like Jesus

Wandering in the desert

Forty days and forty nights with no comb or brush

And his hair was far from perfect




The 1940s

That is what I am talking about

There is nothing great about sadness

I could tell you stories

About Paul Henreid

Never getting the girl

Profitable growth

Disguised as cancer


Disguised as words

Words disguised as profitable growth

Great sadness

Words disguised as great sadness in the 1940s

That was what Paul Henreid was talking about

AN Artist

Hard work being an artist

So I have heard



Painting a phrase

Picking a subject

Singing a song without any words

Writing a sonnet

Writing the word sonnet

Writing a sonnet about sonnets




Sunsets and songs and sonnets

Sonnets about sunsets


Songs about songs

Songs about songs without words



Birds scattered across the sky

Dark dark squirrel asking why

Am I missing something you guys

A warning signal

A tip of the wing or a nod

Why do you fly

In so many different directions

Away from me

Is it my aftershave

Or a great horned owl


Who is the culprit

A Shropshire Hawk

The funny way I walk

Up a tree

What do you chickadees see

Whither goest thou

Is there a heron in the offing

Is it two eagles boffing

Falling in love through the sky

Falling foreplay

Birds scattering

Whither goest thou ??