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Ode to Nothing

When I believe in love that
may never cease to be
the man I am has become me
Before the night has waxed
Before the candle leans forth
I hold upon the temple
a heart who made me my own
grassy knoll sleeps of love
and scents of nature’s romance
is when I feel complete
I have tasted the elixir
of faery power — the unreflected
love of my own happiness
to be just to be
to love and nothingness
is quite the feeling in life


Oh, dearest seeker of linguistic lore,
With ardor I embark on this poetic chore.
In a symphony of syllables, I shall impart
The marvels of English pronunciation, an intricate art.

Listen closely, Jenny, as I guide your way,
Through a labyrinth of sounds that often sway.
I’ll weave a tapestry of words, both bleak and bright,
And together we shall venture into this poetic night.

Corps and corpse, horse and worse,
A quartet of phonetic universe.
Your mind, Jenny, shall dance in dizzying delight,
As I unravel the mysteries, unveiling them to light.

A tear may fall from your sparkling eye,
And a delicate dress may rend with a sigh.
But fear not, for my devotion is true,
I shall suffer alongside you, as this journey ensues.

Now, let us compare heart, beard, and heard,
A triad of words that seem absurd.
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, with caution they must be heard.

Britain, retain, oh mind the way they’re written,
Let not their spelling leave you smitten.
And worry not, I shall not pester you so,
With words like plaque and ague, which bring much woe.

But heed my counsel, speak with utmost care,
For break and steak differ from bleak and streak.
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.

Devoid of trickery, I enunciate,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, oh so great.
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles.

Scholar, vicar, and the lingering cigar,
Solar, mica, war, and journeys afar.
Anemone, Balmoral, a touch of grace,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel, embrace.

Gertrude, German, wind, and thoughts so kind,
Scene, Melpomene, the tapestry of mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with the ballet’s sway,
Nor bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet’s display.

Blood and flood, they do not align with food,
Mould does not echo should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load, and broad,
Toward, forward, reward, let their harmony applaud.

And when your pronunciation rings clear,
Croquet, a game of leisure, let it appear.
Rounded, wounded, grieve, and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Ivy, privy, famous, clamor’s song,
Enamor rhymes with hammer, strong.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, and comb,
Doll and roll, some and home, find their home.

Stranger, anger, a subtle difference found,
Devour, clangor, their rhymes astound.
Souls and foul, haunt and aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant.

Shoes, goes, does, let them gracefully flow,
Finger, singer, ginger, linger, in succession they show.
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge, and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.

Query, very, they don’t mirror each other,
Fury and bury, neither do they smother.
Dost, lost, post, doth, cloth, and loth,
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.

Seemingly small, these differences stand,
Actual and victual, hand in hand.
Refer and deafer, they part ways,
Feoffer, zephyr, a gentle breeze conveys.

Mint, pint…

:: 06.01.2023 ::



Whence does the self emerge, as I unbind from the glacial bloom?
What adoration lingers within that feminine reverie’s realm?
In love’s force, betwixt ecstasy’s embrace,
Where his palm parts the captured gull,
Unconscious eyes disclose intricate tales,
Veiling existence’s essence, that which conceals.


I hold affinity for all that resides,
Shadowy whispers of quotidian nourishment,
A vessel’s wake, fading into oblivion’s grasp.

‘Tis the tremor of the abyss, embracing abundance,
A woman donning stockings of ethereal velvet.

Arrange, we must, the waves, diverse and arrayed,
The melancholy, thou embodiment,
Or one who, world idolized, ventures forth,
Knees adorned with wings, poised mid passion’s flight,
Within love’s central day,
I shall never deceive, but embrace entirety’s plight.
Freedom, mine, in its cruelest form,
Behold the insular artistry,
Where danger finds solace, its taste revered.

Love, the transgressor of societal norms,
Customs yet to be acquired, in anticipation we wait,
Love, exalted, with all its rightful claims,
And the ever-transforming world,
Glimpsed through kaleidoscopic gazes, each day anew.

:: 05.21.2023 ::


In a cascade of light, like melted wax,
It strayed, mischievous and free-spirited,
Across her smiling lips (I watched intently),
Then found solace upon her bosom, a midge on a rose.

I pressed kisses upon her lovely ankles,
And in response, her laughter erupted,
Melodious and sweet, with vibrant notes,
Her laughter, like cut glass, sparkling and clear.

Her dainty feet sought refuge in her skirts,
As if to say, “That’s enough, no further,”
Yet she relented, allowing the moment to unfold,
Her laughter offering no true reproach.

Her vulnerable eyes danced beneath my lips,
Gently caressing, a tender application.
She tossed her head back in mock despair,
“Really, Monsieur,” she playfully exclaimed.

And then, with a kiss upon her breast,
I met her challenge, provoking laughter anew,
That laughter, signaling consent and readiness,
She stood there, nearly undressed, and resolute.

Outside, brazen trees leaned against the panes,
Their leaves intruding, curious and near,
Snooping upon our intimate affair,
So close, too close, invading our privacy here.

:: 05.13.2023 ::

Eclipse of Existence

I dreamed a dream, but was it such a dream?

The sun’s bright flame was quenched, and every star
drifted in endless darkness without aim,
rayless, pathless, and the cold earth afar
swung blindly in the moonless void of space.
morning came and went, but brought no day,

And all men, awed by the dread despair,
Forgot their passions in this desolate fray.
All hearts grew cold, and turned to selfish prayer
For light to break this endless night of doom.

By watchfires they lived, while thrones and kings
Burnt as beacons, while huts and homes consumed.
Cities fell, and people gathered in rings
Around their blazing hearths to meet their fate,
Happy those who lived in the volcano’s light,

For all the world held naught but fear and hate.
Forests burned, and hour by hour, the night
Fell, fading all in its ebon embrace.
Men’s faces, lit by flickering firelight,

Wore an eerie, otherworldly face.

Some wept, others laughed in desperate grace.
And all around, the world descended to the dust.
Birds fluttered, beasts trembled in mortal fear,
And serpents hissed, but to no avail, for they must

Perish by the hand of those they once held dear.
War, which for a moment seemed to be no more,
Returned to glut itself upon the land,
Feasting upon blood and sullenly keeping score,

As all love fled from the earth’s barren strand.
Famine reigned, and every living thing
Fed upon the flesh of the dying and the dead,
Until bones and flesh alike were but a thing

Forgotten by time and all that lay ahead.
Even dogs attacked their masters in their need,
And yet one remained faithful to the last,
Guarding his master’s body, and with no heed

For his own hunger, he held off the ghastly cast
Of beasts and men, until at last he died,
Uttering a pitiful and desolate cry,
Licking the hand of the one who never replied.

The crowd grew famished, and yet only two survived,
Two enemies, who met beside an altar-place,
Gathering holy things for an unholy rite,
Scraping feeble ashes with skeleton hands and face,

And breathing their last breath to create a light
That mocked them both, until they saw each other’s plight,
And in their horror, they died, unknowing of the other’s name,
For famine had left them with only their mutual hideousness and shame.

The world was void, lifeless, and stark,
A chaos of hard clay, without tree or herb,
River, lake, or ocean, all motionless and dark,
And ships lay rotting on a stagnant sea, without a word.

Masts fell down piecemeal, without a sound,
And waves lay still, and tides were in their graves.
The moon had died, and the winds lay unbound,
As clouds perished, leaving nothing to save

The world from darkness, for she was the universe,
And in her shroud of night, nothing was left to curse.

:: 05.10.1992 ::

A Chance of Nature and Amusement

THE procession slowly moved in just-
ly attire; A COPHINUS occasioned
by wooden wheels
& solid beasts with a faire
amoretic group of ladies
joking about sprouting third
legs; but beast or not it left some
mouths agape ~
as others watering
& finally to his resting place
the elderly one was put to peace!

Poet’s Notes:

I would begin by noting the powerful use of imagery in this poem. The opening lines immediately draw the reader into a scene of solemnity and dignity, as a procession moves slowly by in appropriate attire. The use of the word “COPHINUS” adds a sense of antiquity and tradition to the scene, while the reference to wooden wheels and solid beasts suggests a sense of weight and gravitas.

The juxtaposition of this dignified scene with the humorous image of the ladies joking about sprouting third legs creates a sense of playfulness and irreverence, adding depth and complexity to the poem. The image of mouths agape and watering creates a sense of contrast between the solemnity of the occasion and the natural human response to beauty and desire.

The final lines of the poem bring a sense of closure and resolution, as the elderly one is laid to rest. There is a sense of finality and acceptance, as well as a recognition of the cycle of life and death. The use of the phrase “put to peace” suggests a sense of release and a return to a state of calm.

Overall, this poem demonstrates a keen awareness of the power of language to create vivid images and evoke complex emotions. The use of imagery and wordplay adds depth and nuance to the poem, while the underlying themes of tradition and mortality lend a sense of universality to the work. As a poet laureate, I would recognize this poem as a masterful example of the art of poetry.

Marsh Marigold

A melting clock dripping into a pool of clear tears,
stinging like saltwater drops shed by sad children.
A towering sun assaulted by the whiteness of women’s bodies,
as if they were melting into the skies as distorted forms within dreams.

i need no sympathy. The wind blows ~~ upon this cold night.

A mass of silk and lilies, cascading like several rainbows of color
and patterns colliding overlaping like abstract paintings
We all carry on like nothing really matters /no need no sympathy
A lone figure defending a wall, with colors and shapes of surroundings
melting and morphing into fantastical forms that defy logic.

Angels dancing within dizzying swirls of light and shadows, with their wings
transforming into fluid and organic shapes that blend into the surreal landscape.

Sometimes, yes, sometimes I wish I have had no body at all.

A golden current flowing with dark, tired arms that move with cool and calm rhythms,
while colors of surroundings blend into a vibrant green.
Oh moma, i fear the dark spaces and my skin glows with unknown energy!

A somber figure standing beneath a canopy of blue sky, surrounded by curtains
that transform into arches and hills that meld into the abstract landscape.
Oh, the glistening surface holds such surreal bubbles!
A liquid of deep, pale gold blankets the beds made by fate:

The little girls’ green and faded dresses morph into willows,
from which birds without reins flee, into the vast unknown.
Purer than gold, a yellow eyelid blinks with warmth,
marsh marigold – a symbol of your married faith, O Bride! –

At the stroke of noon, from its dull mirror, jealousy rises
As the rose-colored sphere glows with love: gray heat fills the sky.

:: 05.07.2023 ::


The first stanza presents a series of surreal images, including a melting clock, clear tears, and distorted forms. These images suggest a sense of timelessness and fluidity, as well as a feeling of sadness or loss. The second stanza introduces the idea of abstraction and the blending of colors and patterns, which creates a sense of chaos and confusion.

The third stanza presents the idea of angels and their wings, which transform into fluid and organic shapes that blend into the surreal landscape. This image suggests a sense of freedom and transcendence, as well as a feeling of disorientation and uncertainty.

The fourth stanza introduces the idea of fear and unknown energy, which creates a sense of tension and unease. The fifth stanza presents a somber figure standing beneath a canopy of blue sky, surrounded by curtains that transform into arches and hills that meld into the abstract landscape. This image suggests a sense of isolation and introspection, as well as a feeling of wonder and beauty.

The sixth stanza presents the idea of a golden current flowing with dark, tired arms that move with cool and calm rhythms, while colors of surroundings blend into a vibrant green. This image suggests a sense of renewal and growth, as well as a feeling of harmony and balance.

The seventh stanza introduces the idea of fate and its mysterious workings, which creates a sense of uncertainty and awe. The final stanza presents the image of a marsh marigold, which symbolizes married faith and suggests a sense of hope and commitment.

Overall, “Marsh Marigold” is a powerful and thought-provoking poem that uses rich and evocative language to explore a range of complex themes and emotions.

I Should Love Then I Shall Die

A heart once filled with love and hope,
Now lays shattered, broken and alone,
The pain and sadness, it cannot cope,
For all that’s left is a heart of stone.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

Once a light shone bright and true,
In this heart that beat for you,
But now it’s gone, forevermore,
Leaving behind an empty core.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

The pain, it cuts so deep inside,
A wound that time cannot hide,
The love that once filled this heart,
Now torn apart, forever to depart.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

As this heart beats its final breath,
It knows that love can bring both life and death,
And though it may never love again,
It will always remember what it once had been.

:: 05.03.2023 ::

Within The Concert Hall Alone

[As I looked into the mirror, my reflection smiled back at me with eyes that were not my own.]

As I entered the abandoned concert hall, the scent of decay and neglect hung heavy in the air, sending shivers down my spine. The only source of light came from a flickering candle on a creaky wooden stand, illuminating the outline of a cello in the corner. I hesitated for a moment before picking up the bow and drawing it across the strings, unleashing a haunting melody that filled the room. Suddenly, I saw my reflection in the dusty mirror, my eyes now empty sockets and my flesh decaying, as I realized the cello had been playing me all along, summoning the spirits of the dead to claim me as their own.

:: 05.03.2023 ::

River Creatures Speak

CLOSING these eyes
reaching outside all reality
you come inside inevitably
surreal being one
dancing twinkle little toes
being mice is little woe
i lost the bread crumbs of a path
inside this deep green forest
little feet wet upon green grass
stopping i look: out there, under stars,
i saw myself focus on the soul i am
reading, drawing, singing, i found a river
of rivulets and eddies swirling around me
the frog croaked, “important to be authentic!”
The tadpole, “Express your emotions with hesitation!”
The skies, “Those wo care about you won’t be bothered
by what you say, and those who are bothered
do not matter.”

:: 04.30.2023 ::