Loam

In the precious dark comes

Early spring 

I know we have winter, iced miles 

To go

But

Connection

Survives the temporal and

I do not wish to

Explain

February 19

Winter Canvas

I navigate 

Answers, or at least 

perspective

Abound, in these crazed, snow-

Wrapped fields, 

Shards of memory buried in 

An unend of winter days, 

Long, stark horizons

Listen to yourself, 

she said to me, 

One of her 

Gifts and 

So I am.

My Math Madness

The days are long 

The years fly by 

Days and nights merge 

Into the endless question,

The so-what of it all

Meaning, just what is it we 

See, what do we think 

We see? 

I am not one 

Of those morbid, despairing types, 

Half the time, when I gaze around,

I understand

What I am seeing,

Or I think I do

Even though half the time 

What my brain says I’m seeing

Makes no sense to me, 

And the other 

Half the time I don’t have a clue, 

But no matter

When the algebra of this madness

Unwinds into my consciousness, 

I just think to myself that I want to

Go for a coffee with someone I love

Beyond expressing.