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Seasonal Expectations


June 1




If I am out of sync with the way the world turns, I can be nothing but disappointed.  I arrive with ice skates on the hottest summer day and grieve the loss of spring.  I shiver in my sandals and ponder the need for a windshield scraper, the autumn leaves so long past.  I must orchestrate my moods and movements with the evolution and revolution about me.  I will learn to sing with the doves in the morning and the coyotes, come the moon.  I can spin with the stars.  I can grow with the grass.  I don’t need to counter- balance life.  If I learn to bend with the tides, it all comes around again.



If moles can make hills you can move mountains



Soul Chiggers



If you can seed apprehension deeply in a generation,

you can reap disillusionment for a hundred years.

Bent foresight twists hindsight.


Admiring ignorance, signs death’s warrant.

Evil splintered to a thousand slivers

burrows  under the skin without killing their host.


Death delayed spreads destruction along with melancholy;

a septic contagion if ever there was one.

How do we fight this systemic blight?


It is embedded in the water,

the air, the mind, and try what I might;

I can’t seem to live without any of these.


Chiggers of the soul feed and breed

no matter how I scratch and chew.

I am raw, but still infested.


How do I kill what is in me

without killing the me?