
the bee wallows
in pollen like a drunk
sprawls on a bar’s floor.

the bee wallows
in pollen like a drunk
sprawls on a bar’s floor.




the sunflower
that bows its head in the sun
feels pensive.
What floats out in the water?
My troubled mind imagines
dire possibilities --
Instead of floating like
whatever it is that's out there.
Because whatever it is,
it is beyond angst.
It knows only the float --
the quiet act of floating.
And in its floating,
it cannot be lighter,
cannot be more at ease.
It is the thing that floats.
I only wish I could be
that which floats.



If you could un-invent something, what would it be?
Being acquainted with the Law of Unintended Consequences, there isn’t a thing I’d un-invent. You start arrogantly messing in the natural progression of things, and you never know what kind of monster you’ll birth.
Once upon a time, I might have said nuclear weapons (still a strong contender for ender of our species.) Then again, who knows what kind of horrific World War III we might have had, had we not been forced to sober up a little.

in a city park,
muscular baobabs &
wiry strangler figs
provide residences
for the fierce squirrels.
Where can you reduce clutter in your life?
My mind. It’s a constant battle.