Opus in the Key of Y

Perilously close to Z on

the only scale that matters;

final bolt of lightning a few

blinks and last gasp away


inchworming from here to there

plodding over peaks and potholes;

management not responsible

for losses or injuries sustained.


Y is wide open to wonder

wide open to ponder

wide open to shouting futile

questions into the void


throat raw begging answers

neck stiff looking upward

when right from the start

curiosity kept me alive.




Look back, look ahead, back further

directional signals amiss;

about face, about time wasted

saving painted face


countless mirrors gazed into

ample mirrors shattered

shards scattered far and wide

sweep faster dammit faster.   


Wish-blown mind

seeds asunder;

this idea that creation

cloud nine clutter


blister of fame

splash of good fortune

milkweed dreams

stifled by thunder.




Step away from the mirror

stop saving time

forget what you forgot

write memoir by gaslight


but heed when Z begins

whistling in your ears

insistent indecipherable

walking dead moans


more vibration than verbal

more time-warped than crazed

more profound than poetry

more bellwether than deadline.




Take stock, stir slowly, simmer

lie down, cool off, get up

let loose, go bold, be fearless

and at the last, be haughty


stare down Z, slap its face

to kingdom come

close your eyes, flap your wings

and smile like someone who

got away with something.


What are you looking for?