Dispatches from the Suicide Hours of Immortality

The poem is a pied piper for the rats in my mind

the sunday times 10.13.19

whisper and shadow


busted radiance

tourniquet smile


plundering circulation

for the darker blood of emotion


seated deep

this haunting ache

of useful longing


a slow burn

forty-eight years long


fearing a break of no return


simply to touch

something that matters.




pointless mourning

begrudged and besmirched


time is nothing to rely on

distance remembers no love


all broken containers

of each other’s secrets


slowly flowing like lava

searing the ground beneath


our momentary history

so easily brushed away


breathtakingly inconsequential

yet construction continues


on our own personal monuments

to insignificance.




knowing the reason

does little to break the fall


still the memory

fading by association


so long now

but touched

as close as



loss lingers

purpled like a bruise

yellowed at the edges


bone deep







red light blues


still gone


burning away the hours

from the inside out


near misses

and near fatal flaws


dead tracks

armored hearts


sunlight falls

between the cracks

of whispered days


as her shadow remains in darkness


a ghost

of a ghost of

a ghost.


“We must pass thru solitude and difficulty,

isolation and silence in order to reach forth

to the enchanted place where we can dance

our clumsy dance.”

  • Pablo Neruda



Thus concludes the collection “The Heart has a Mind of its Own”

Next week begins poems from my most recent work in progress

with the working title  “A Spark on the Horizon”.


the sunday times 10.6.19

gone down


corners of rooms

call out from darkness


the weight of silence

upon the heart


the same night at the end

of every other day


almost close

but just out of reach


someone remembered somewhere


no point in detail


just another anchor to cut loose

until i catch another wave.


last of september


around again

summer burning down


not much to remember

not much to forget


status quo and still waters


the mind wanders

the heart waits


trawling the deep

resonance of solitude


ever beckoning me

to follow my own light.


scriptnotes and faultlines


angled for direction

panning out to broadened scope


pinpoint and scattershot


patchworked progress gleaned

from the finest fragments


onward turning

past silver lakes

toward cold water canyons


driving away

driven away


spirits converging

as coyotes gather in the field

beneath the radio towers

howling in the dusk


and another red night comes forth

to bleed us dry.


in spite of agony


mourning redemption

golden ways long gone


the fulcrum at the crux of foundation

leveled and admonished


with just enough light

to bring this dark knowing

into focus


whether by sadness mined

or fire branded


we all bear the scars of our escape.


what the holy see


tapping in and out

deep in the fade of forgetting


hope has many disguises

whether burned like a witch

or lost like a lover


spaces locked away until

moments of precision release


as a billion broken stars

shower the dawn of our reverie.


“Shadow can’t survive without

the sun’s bright beam,

and death hold’s life in its coat pocket,

fingers stroke it like a lucky charm”

  • Terry Wolverton





the sunday times 9.29.19

better than nothing


walls around walls


sunlight’s soft intrusion

thru the cracks allowed


the bluest vacancy of open skies

hails the day anew


gracefully mourning

another lost night


to the sorrow

of love.


dead on


cornered by exact coincidence

with enough room upon the pages

to dig and dig


seeded deep

in the echo

of memory


the breath of hungry ghosts chasing smoke…


there are places inside me

that can only be found

by words.


roll wise


urged from ledge to ledge

outbound thoughts leaving be


gentle collapse

brilliant collision


courses parsed

by glimpse and glean


periphery compromised

by bombardment


turn back the eyes

to sanctum from inertia


rest in the assurance

that you are where you are



in the dignity

of the process


forward and unfolding


there is

no end.




mile to mile

from nowhere

to here


trailing pieces of the heart

given away or just plain lost


all for the better


for the ghosts are wiser now

and the road a bit brighter


but still

as dark

as necessary.


“Loneliness is a valuable feeling.

artists need to know how to walk alone.”

  • Ai Weiwei





the sunday times 9.22.19

touch stone


nothing wrong

nothing right


muddled in the middle

as the sides begin to sway


too early to tell

too late to turn away


stepping forward

to face the day.


once in a while


in love

less often than not…


but when it hits

it’s nice to have that connection

for however long it may last


the ease and the guardlessness

the newness and the knowing


something to remember

on all the lonely night that follow


after it’s gone.




periphery in dementia


part and parcel

piecemeal patchwork


focus center

gravity pulls


to this moment

pulsing from within


tension released

in a blink and

a breath


and again we live

and again we die


there is no way

but this.


day and night


the slow and steady sun

beats and burns away


clearing the brush

for the deluge


lurching into the darkened fray

of things gone wrong


searching for the right words

to make it beautiful again.


renunciation and compliance


lifting the drag

slight momentum maintained


still the detriment

of dead weight


begetting better traps

to stall forward motion


subtlety all the wiser

gotten good by tricks of trade


by barter and bargain


but in the end

nothing works but necessity


and the dawning belief

that it’s never too late


to start from where you are.



against their reason

speak of love, sometimes,

when they are old. It is

all they can do.”

  • William Carlos Williams

the sunday times 9.15.19

slow rise


low grade tension

self-administered doubt


things in the way

all of my own making


stories and fear

emanating from

a dark and unright mind


but the sun is in the room

and the words are on the way


so i anticipate

a change is in the offing.


off wire


the day burns anew

with the same old feelings


with choices

made and pending


no more wait in the wonder

of what comes next


to be pulled from the ruins

long after the fact of demise


no more blindsided

by truth or consequence


nothing given but the assumption

that everything is yet unknown


the task at hand

to move forward


secure in that very unknowingness

far beyond the revelation of any outcome

you can imagine.




to the ground


familiar spaces

darker than usual


as all measure

of ways and means change


turns both surprising and expected

spark and dim perspective


left again to sift thru

whatever broken things remain


to gather what is needed

to face another day.


reaching ground


beneath the beauty there is darkness

beneath the darkness, beauty

and on like this


every step,

every turn


more light, less time

more time, less light


it’s really just an even fight

though most times it seems otherwise


whether caught in the past

or drawn to the next


neither and nothing

can ever be anything


without the presence of mind

to know exactly where we are

right now.


all in


definitive ends


better a clean break

but never quite the way


scraping memories

from the gutters of the mind


fooled again and left unsaid

the words for better hearts


a little more time burned away

by the gamble of hope and expectation


all’s well that ends, i guess…


still willing

to bet everything

on love

for the



“In darkness there is sight.

It takes courage to step forward

into the walls

of uncertainty.”

  • Lisa Segal

the sunday times 9.8.19



accustomed to the fleetingness of emotion

but somehow still convinced it will remain


trapped in the pull

of want and permanence


fighting against the fight

none the better way


neither to hold

nor pin down


and while this being known

is but only the beginning


it is decidedly more

than a step in the right direction.


for the best


holding forth

uncertainties deciphered


in the space of days

and the vastness of silence


there speaks the heart

unburdened of influence

and static


opened in clarity

and decision


to accept the letting go

and embrace the unknown.


slow lightning


upon the break

of deeper waters


up for air

beneath the blue

silent sky


communion retreats

to advance anew


toward another crash

of the same old drag


heart in a holding pattern


hoping for anything

but nothing again.


trust and consequence


no matter

no mind


too often

the heart follows

the head


dead roads and bad neighborhoods


the same reels spinning

over and over


film flapping

as the projector



held hostage

by thought after thought

gone rogue


nothing true

but everything real


reason rationed

to the smallest dose


quick triggers

to a slow death

of promise


leaving hope in the dust

and love to sweep the garden.


“Going nowhere isn’t about turning your

back on the world; it’s about stepping away

now and then so that you can see the world

more clearly and love it more deeply.”

  • Pico Iyler

the sunday times 9.1.19

this again


wrested from sleep

to the dim glory

of mourning


emptied of knowing

starting from scratch


as love’s bright eyes

look elsewhere

for now.


nothing for granted


truth finds its place

in the light years of stars

toward destiny


riding the illusion of fate

to its fiery end


freed from demand

and compulsion


vast with acceptance

and spaciousness



the unknowable absolute

of being.


drawn from memory


the heart can hold this moment

no more than open arms

can gather the tide


roll and crash with the waves

drift and float with the calm


let flow what comes

let flow what leaves


learn from what you’ve done

and know from what you do


it’s all just glitter in the wind

thrown from pulled pockets


cast the turning unlocked

there is nothing here

but now.


eye of the rain


difference deep

if only in the mind


the energy of approach

streamlined and subtle


spacious and significant

void of submission and lesser apologies


long lived lessons

finally bearing fruit


borne of recognition

and acceptance


of a bigger picture

and a greater purpose.


for the first time, again and again


between the illusion

thru the stories

and the fear


chance options provision


codes of falsehood cracked

as something brighter emerges


to dim the haunting shadows

and light a better way.


“Living is a knot of opposites;

anything less than that is a lie.”

  • Cheryl Levinson




the sunday times 8.25.19

no time to spare


to turn

as infinity



as free to shine

as the mind of a star


dust to dust

as everything










force of nature


sinking in

deep grooves

in the dark skin

of the night


give way

to this morning song


brokenness touched

by the ghosts of sleep


a tender burn

soothed with a smile


maybe again, someday


and maybe

nothing more.


this tide will turn


accounting for suspect device

back to ways uncontrolled


an easy slip down

the sides of mountains


known to know

a bit more than nothing


but just enough

to change course


from the clutter

complication suggests


when the grip too tight

strains the slack


it is best

to practice the simplicity

of letting things be as they are.


no reason


down this road


thoughts pulling too much weight

in the wrong direction


imagined triggers

set forward the motion


and here

to this

we run


the center that will no longer hold

the dead habit of downtrend and despair


this threadbare noose

that gives way to chance


and the freedom

to try again.


“We all carry within us our places of exile,

our crimes and our ravages. But our task

is not to unleash them on the world; it is

to fight them in ourselves and others.”

  • Albert Camus

the sunday times 8.18.19

go there


at least once

morning, noon

and night


to keep the gears from grinding

to keep the fingers from slipping


somewhere out beyond the day

and all its doings

there is an elsewhere

that longs for presence


a place to feed the soul

and simply breathe.


in the wait


connection crossed

tension dismantled


appearing at ease

from the distance


telling time soon to approach


back from elsewhere

to common ground


toward the unknown possibility

of new endeavor.


hark and hollow


low in the darkness

beneath the heat


july ending like a fire in the night

three days up in flames


a new garden rumbles

from the guts of berlin


eons of thought

traced like headlights

across the ceiling


with someone, somewhere

to think about


and wonder

what comes next.


third in a trilogy


a while back

now it comes


a chance like a feather

descending to grace the abyss


attention at ease

despite tendencies to the contrary


the same different page

to burn anew


in hopes of something better

than nothing at all.


breaking dawn


mourning tides pull

bright words burn thru


risk for the taking

optioning surrender instead


a day to ease the blows

solitude chosen for now


in the cool dark space

of an echoed silence.


“The truth is not straining for the truth,

the truth is in effortlessness. The truth

is in being, not trying.”

  • Richard Hell




the sunday times 8.11.19

no way


counter to the urge

of futile necessity


demand thrusts hope away


the sides worn thin and grating

ledge after ledge tempts with the abyss

of immortality


accept that there is nothing

and nothing there will be


think no thought

right no wrong


like smoke

in the clutch

of a dying hand


leave no trace of flight

upon this void.


too long gone


jangled keys in covered clouds

the unexplained movements

of shadow across the heart


hung on a phrase

or a picture of time


a different sequence of frequency

circles traced infinitely outward


the song

the dance

the chorus

the verse


forward thru this endeavor

from which we are never meant

to return.


true blood


caged in the bones of the heart

a harmless coronation dissolved


one last song

like a river



endless of letting go

hopeless of fall


finally unlocked.




reachable ledges

beyond pale comparisons


each endeavor

a step away


in closer proximity

to moments of truth


no unclaimed baggage

to clutter the way


everything owned

and confronted


the table cleared

smiles on a blank slate


both sides win.


“You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.”

– Toni Morrison