peripatetic patter
learning new tricks . . . and hardhead is always here . . .
November 27, 2023
October 29, 2023
Look Over Yonder Somewhere
I'm gonna miss me when you're gone
I'm gonna miss you when you write my song
Sing in tune if or when you can
I'll watch for you on the horizon
and grin ear to ear when you surprise me
'cause I know you're watching to see
what the hell is really over yonder . . .
It's us . . . you and me.
July 25, 2023
July 11, 2023
March 10, 2023
The Circle in Gold
January 18, 2023
Gato Malo Redux
The songs I sing from my mind
don't always tingle with rhyme
but are songs I know
my heart shouting to the wind.
Please remember this
a kiss is just a kiss
but a sigh goes beyond tomorrow.
A kiss is often followed by sorrow
or rows and rows of a beautiful today.
Have you noticed the twist & turns?
D. Parket certainly took note . . .
The yapping of birds, just a bit hasty,
she balanced as almost nasty . . .
DP thought feathered friends
somewhere beyond a pale of sense,
their yapping and scolding stirred
stirred in a soup of arbutus seeking sun.
November 29, 2022
I do not Dance Alone
If you see me strutting with no one insight it is because I see friends gone in the night. We mostly meet out of doors along roads that do not always lead to anywhere just neutral spaces of peace and quiet with room to dump our love and care where it belongs, in the arms of everyone. The strut is just an awkward dance of love.
October 31, 2022
Gee Whiz
September 18, 2022
No Sonnet This
I am not only a bubble in the sky . . . and neither are you . . . we are trouble on the wing, a world where we may belong. We are people grown old and know the syllables of youth and love. We hear secrets that none of us knew before we learned to skip and sing, We cannot move down river preferring one side or the other nor float the cool of the Willamette lost in the rocks along the way . . . You will know who I am crashing and singing; I am no outcast except by choice I sit alone studying Joyce . . . more like an alley cat than an honest polygot . . . I strive, I strive I am still alive.
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