i didnt come here and i aint leaving

the older i get the closer i am to being me. yeah. it is a conundrum i know. i used to think i would not live that long. now at seventy two it all seems a miracle that will last forever. not that i believe in miracles like forever but it sounds good to say it in a haibun.

november rain
just cold enough
to be…

my muse is betting against me

i dont have anything to say.

wisps of incense
a singing bowl tunes into
silence

leftover dreams

sometimes deja vu occurs in our dreams. funny isnt it when that happens. something that never occurred for real reappears while we sleep. a rumination of a dream in a dream. very odd. psychologists must have a lot of fun when this happens.

recalling
the way it wasnt…
missing you

giving away all my sins

right and wrong. the diatribes of others. i know enough not to walk into a busy street against the light. that is enough for me. everything else is just there. and then gone.

gifting my solitude…
a box of cheerios
for the homeless man

portrait of my love

if you want people to like you then make it easy for them. just be your own craggy self with all your imperfections on show. and give each of them a part of you to keep if they wish. take nothing from them though. the peace of a summer breeze repeats itself by doing nothing. a wait is always worth it. do it with the calmness of no certain reward.

casting its lot
with the butterflies
milkweed

a nightingale sings

i have many friends. some have left this life. many are distant. but all touch me every day. i feel the sway of all. so sad when people feel alone. i feel for them. there are songs for everyone. just listen for them.

the way
squirrels bury acorns
memories of absent friends

to wisdom

some days i dont know where i am headed. complexity is a salvation. too many voices and it is easy to go to the silence. just be where you are. right now my mind is choosing colors from a baskin robbins rainbow. licking the past to find the future.

skin tight
is there any other way
to die happy

you got your god and i have mine

i have a spiritual life. but not one attached to any other path. this one is mine but i will happily share it with you. a least until you wander off on your own.

eightfold path
shorebirds scatter
with the waves

invitation to the blues

lauren bacall always fascinated me. a calm sexiness combined with a smile that never seemed to entirely fade. if i was a fifties sugar daddy i would have wasted a fortune on her.

old movies–
but still sidney greenstreet
never gets the girl

i didnt mean to treat you so bad

a long time before indians ran casinos. that long ago. time changed my mind about everything. i want to be hip but still like bow ties so that tells you all you need to know about me. or does it. my confusion predates the indians and the invention of bow ties.

confessions
to all the clouds in all the skies
your selfish suicide