It Only Takes a Moment

to make a memory

one visit & your voice seems printed on the walls

You face is in my mirror

Your breath upon my air

Your song lingers

in hearing

or were you always here

from when I said aloud,

“Once Upon A Time”

there is a tiny bird nested by my room

a very small sound coaxes me to listen

I read that mama birds sing to their eggs

all the time.

I am hearing it now.

in times of shouting

i can only do what is in front of me

i can only remember

what i have outgrown

with its many pockets

where i left a memory in each

again i try my bow against a target

once more i reach for a star

too bright to hold, but i grab it nonetheless

stuffing it down to nestle

between my breasts

where i keep the keys

when I work out.

again i trust the universe,

simply throwing my overnight case

at it, trusting in all the rest

not giving an inch on my faith

tho i test the tension on the line.

there can be no assuagement to my guilt

i have turned away from that I thought to love forever

i have set down my phone under your picture

in hopes you will speak to me.

More Stuff from Work


We write our signatures on air

On air money

I remember when the sound of


Jingling in a pocket

Meant a Grade A or a Red Hot

Do you remember?

Did you ever walk into a candy store?

Where a big glass cabinet

Housed a reflexive kiss for

Everything within

An involuntary tightening

Of orbicularis oris,

A pucker.

(Candy was the closest thing to love I knew.)

Years have passed, many counting themselves,

As I never kept track except the big ones,

Except in the most general ways

Others can tell you times to the tenth

But I barely know how I got here

Nor will I ever need to

This is all that matters: thisrightnow, thismeoment,



Never have I lost your sounding waters

Stream of consciousness

I have missed the tiny whirlpools

But never the great Tides

Which swing my world so in & out of balance

I have learned only that balance is flexible

That it’s changeable, malleable,

Balance lifts us up into manageable.

Yet I claim it not, not fully, not without first

Looking around for railing, or a handhold

Balance was a for-granted

But it has gone the way of faith

The chair will be behind me when I sit…

A variable where only an inalterable ever existed.

But that doesn’t stop me.

I watched a baby walking, thumping along

After being put gently on the floor

Leaning into his future

Walking, forehead jutting ahead of his feet.

I walk like that sometimes now.

I don’t lean back, if I claimed my past it would

Claim me. I choose not to dwell there.

So much so I rush from it.

Somehow I have seen it all before

I am bored by the repeats

Bummed by the reruns

Interested in the growth & the new

In the place where I can claim some experience

The holy bath of experience

From which no one returns the same

The reruns are off, the endings

Jacked up. How could I have counted them ever?

But the not understanding is okay with me now

The wondering & the laying on of syllables

Like strips of bacon making grease in a heated brainpan

The smell will intoxicate me; I wonder if I’ll also have eggs..

I mean ideas, I mean ways to get out from myself & away from

Me awhile. There’s that place where it’s okay to sway.

I am there now.


In my supposed comeuppance, your one-line flick of a forked tongue

At me, I watch you, woman.

I am a threat. You are right to watch me back,

to rattle a warning accusation of

A crime I know nothing about; One thing: I will not dance it again.

But you know all, having discovered we’re out of

Paper…the accusation precedes the announcement:

This from the woman who says have no fear,

Unity does not do fear!

But running out of paper is a hostage situation a 911 bristle, a threat

To the future of major proportions.

Staples being two miles away, n’all.

But there is a humidity of accusation cloying a measure of self-protection & I

Understand, as I was there, too, in the beginning.

Every Unity I know breaks apart, succumbs to Great Change

We are thinking it will be one thing

When it might be entirely another.

Now I have a measure of self-protection in place

This is just how it is; it’s nothing personal

It is how each explains herself to life

With a bang on the counter, a jarring of the bell

Heard in far reaches of outer space…

These women purport to ministry but live a self-crafted life

Involving much validation in finger-pointing

An air of mayhem-in-waiting

Of corrupted effort & diminishing returns

Saying one thing to another

Neither quite true or trusted.

Only demanded.

I can feel my armor dented in places

The shin-guards worn away

the covers over the ears newly heated

by accusation by disbelief by not “get it right, but you’re so

stupid you got it wrong.”

I think it’s because I feel it hit my Translator

& bounce awry instead of smoothly smoothing out.

I have no respect for the one & am rapidly losing

What I have for the two…histrionics accomplish zilch.

Something broke today when you harried me in front of John

Who was just waiting to speak to you

But seemed unmoved by what I perceived as a full-on Tantrum.

Like the ones 3-year olds throw on the toy aisle.

For many of the same reasons, a parent would say.

I’ll say, too, I can’t get there from here. I do not know how.

It is not my understanding of what you asked for two weeks ago

This is some wish you cobbled together in the fiery pit

Of I know  I asked her this!!



If this is how you feel, just go.

If it is coming to the point that you decide four weeks in front of leaving that we need to know every single solitary thing you know,

Only the God of Heaven can help us!

But we are not the women who ask for help

Before designing our own program

Buying our own uniforms

Building our own pillboxes

Designed beyond your getting in

Which is funny, because you built it

By how you treat me.

The irony of it all being you likely

Do. Not. Even. Know.


The tension in the room & the torsion in the air

Accelerate an already fast-moving iteration

Of Situation

Into international waters, traditions count out here

And One People do not mix With Another.

And don’t try to tell me these aren’t all over the planet

These whorls where someone made bad juju & no one ever

Redeemed it with a blessing.

Cuz I recognize them.

From before, some my own

You enter here at your peril

With the potential of  your sorrow

For I am only a battery

Only a mirror

I will up the energy of the situation

Since what I think if it is on my honest face.

Someday that face will look into your own

I amplify & reflect back.

I clap endlessly one-handed

I walk the forest listening for downing trees

I cannot play that game of throwns any more

I want to belong to a vibrant community of like minds

Who do not throw away their own decisions, but do not force them either. What would it take to not be the problem but the problem-solver?


Could I be a Listener?

A listening device of analog proportions?

What would it take to be fluid of body once again,

To have a man, once, lift me to himself & cradle me

Set a seal upon that Seer Eye: awaken it with unexpected vision

There is a reason they slay the spirit there

But I seek not even the smallest of deaths

To bring it to the surface, to lead the light

To have a unicorn kind of magic: emergent,

Masculine, parting the very air

For in between the particles

I would go

To achieve the feminine.

It sees me to be: finally whole,

Not foresworn in the belly.

My spirit parts are strong, but invisible here

Jovial, they push other stuff out of the way to have theirs.

Stream of Consciousness During Peter Kater Concert

I am as much as any fabled queen

or reigning Monarch

(even a butterfly)

I am moved beyond caring

What others think

If they are tiresome enough to dislike my I Am

I am enough for having touched the hem of the garment.

I only tell my story to one ear at a time

I am worn out of those who only have their lives

Who interrupt, who interfere

My tolerance is narrowed to nothing of their spectrum

I am reaching back

I pull the past up over me

To shake its discovery & settle it about me

Only if I find it saves the now

Which it never will

No longer being in existence

This is how I know I will fade too

When Time catches up to shake me out

In remembrance.

We are all spectacular

A sea of fireworks

A crackling voice

Summoned from inside

The mind of God

The intelligence of divinity

We are sparklers

In a Child’s hands (our Creator)

To be gazed upon in wonder

To share as a signal burning

In brief being, a heart stilling at our approach

The less I declare, the more I bare

Suspended upon a glissando of time

Fallen about me

Stripping me of thought, idea-free

I simply Am

with no identity at all, Divine.

An exaltation of moments

I have no time for those who do not believe

I’m right here, mirroring your movements

With a dance of my own to explore / implore

Seized by that same Time, shaken in its jaws, immortal

These words will walk before me

Forever: I follow

I am no longer a writer

That has passed…

I await the new, the next, the beyond

At one time, I’d have been anxious

There would be no bottom,

I would fall forever without words

But this was never so, I see.

I am as timeless as you

When the stories fling themselves farther than I can find them

Still, I will walk the earth

Until I walk into my wings & fly.

My records are no longer kept

There will be no memory:

I will be erased as winds upon the seas

As the faraway rumble of an unheard poet

A blessing unsaid

Beleaguered by all it has not done

While these look from windows

To skies that do not bend

But rather continue into blue forever

I have not lost so much

The this I thought

I have rather laid it down

And wandered off, wandered on.

I have let the breath I held so long

Breathe out

I am empty & careless

With little to say

And Eternity just ahead.

A lady-in-waiting

So fulfilled there is nothing more to gain       

So emptied out, the carelessness of life gives way

To benefit in only the absurd

In the thought of one more day

Which defies the blank clocks

This is what happens

When focus narrows

One at a time each thought

Melts to the next

The containers become nets

Centers do not hold

Banks have no tender

When earth is in full function,

The next must move along

The darkness must light

Or become what it is & give way.

The hands must flicker, reaching into

That needing to be carried

What to take

To bring

And why

And where.

The finding & the losing are equal,

Tho some will tell you no

the students will push the professors aside

to forge ahead into knowledge

The conservatives here murdered the “professoria”


This thing about change?

It happens in between

Reality & that place between breath.

The packages are all opened

Their box flaps gape,

I have reached the place where I no longer

Know who I am, or why

And little in between moves me

Or can slow me down

Tho I pace the snail,

 & the turtle feels immortal nearby

The holy is no more

Nor ever was

My beliefs, as I said,

Have never been.

The solid ground has become insubstantial

The national and the local

Have merged inharmoniously even so.

My days of small satisfactions

Matter to me

The air I breathe

The food I eat

Are all I need

I move away

Into obscurity

Carrying out

Some mandate unwrit


Never breached by immortality

Tho believed in by anyone else

I am rendered null & void

The blankest of checks

In wealth unimagined

Bestirred & limitless


Across the trackless desert

The cemented city

The brainless sky

My thoughts streak beyond

And below

There are no surfaces anymore

I am brought finally

To standstill

In front of me a mirror

I can no longer pray

Having become prayer entirely

I recognize my limits

But pay no attention

I have gone.



So lost in the ending I missed the beginning entirely

Or was it off-way round?

It never mattered anyway

Since the continuum overtook

The answer & the question both.
in being lost in myself

I lost the self

The point of the exercise

Broke off

The pencil dulled to charcoal

As I realized any act I create

Is only a momentary level of cognition

For an out-of-body experience

I have busied myself so long

I think I matter

And it’s time to let go of all that

To be the final void.

Chord echoing the space

In between the worlds

I surrender

I am no more

I am no

I am


“I Always Want A Tomorrow”

tho there will come a day when tomorrow comes no more

and all life goes far away in this three dimensional way

of having hands & feet, a mouth to kiss, hair to comb

a life to help others & put things away

all the ordinary events of the day

spent like coins of the Old Realm

to buy dreams in the New.

Do you think I should have refused?

was there a way to do things otherwise?

I came here to do this: to live as I have

alone & halfway water

belonging nowhere but where I am

and that only scantily.

it was a way to pay it off early

any debt I owed, any fault repaired

so I slipped between the bars & the barriers

to awaken here, my eyes wise with birth

soon clouded with living in so small a space

as a body – enlarged now tho it may be…

I complain no more

I tuck myself into a ball & keep rolling

I move because I can & because there is no other way to live.

And in the unexpected, ordinary morning

I catch myself looking up at a ragged sky

edged & egged in blue with the hoarse clouds ballooning

higher than life itself, the fragile bridges to a firm & total God

the creation in which I am as secure as individuality can make me.

I live now after dying to myself in so many spaces

And who I am is all I am, the wild paths fraught with winds

snatching my words & my blinking my eyes.

this is what counts: the here & now of forever

at which I stare, an idiot believing in sanity

not to be had here or now but only imagined.

With No Time to Consider Her Life

she did so anyway, the thoughts slowing her more

tangling her feet & tugging her ears

those old songs of faraway

no closer than before.

the now crowded about her

spilling into the future, disparaging the past

yet still she clung to what have you, to what might have been

as she clings to this now, knowing nothing else.

I Was Alone, But That’s Not the Same as Being Lonely

They spoke of families to visit, of grandchildren & sons,

nieces & daughters, of turkeys waiting to be carved

by the man of the house

while all the women know exactly how to use a knife.

a best-kept secret, that of life & death

where-over the women rule, washing the dead,

touching the wounds with aching fingers

mourning is the same as rejoicing

when death chooses another & calls out its hooting cry.

we women shudder & move aside for we are not the targets

we are only life symbolic & whole, uncommonly bested by life or time or tide

until we say “Basta!” Enough! Until we hold up a right hand to stop the tide no man can ever claim

the secrets all live inside of us & even cutting us open will not these reveal

their seclusion is their elation

their joy is that of all of nature resplendent in the sun.

The Words Themselves, Au Naturel

Got a threesome that’s awesome & just needed someone to write them, I think, somehow they chose me for the word juggle. I read these with fish-lips, open & moist. Where? Who? So raw a fork would not stand up in them. 

It’s hot again. Back in my bathing suit flower coverup with the fan white noising. 

This morning the blog entry caught me by the shoulder & spun me around tho I told it I didn’t have time for this, I had to be out & away soon & still with a shower to take & a forelock to tug to Powers but it pushed me back down & I wrote, putting on this song to write by:     Seems it needed a specific sound track. I still made it in time to unlock the door correctly & put up the coffee. 

Tonight I wrote the following – another lashing with the lonesome whip but again, just the words climbing up & oozing out from some deep well I thought covered, locked down, inaccessible. No longer needed as a proof of life. So I lay no claim to these: they are kitewords pushing past everything else to fly & I have found the strings in my hands. 

Something is breaking loose here, I run about picking up pieces with no way of putting anything together. 

It gets no better… 


I would live my life alone

Becoming existential

Hovering on non-existent

How could I

Why would I?

How do I not pass a razor over my wrists

Being so?

Were I truly alive

I might be made of memories,

I might have a love or, God be praised!, a lover

I might have been a woman someone could take by the hand

To an altar or a bedroom

To be made holy.

I am not stupid

These words will say it so.

I am too wise over time & experience.

But I sit in the middle of a road

Going both ways

To wonder at direction.

I did not know life could be this way

Or that mine would.

That my hands would be the only caress

Of time over me, that

My words would be my mirror

My reflection growing old with me

Mapping new arcs, new trails to play.

I did not know life could become a lump in the throat

A deceased cat, wounds that never heal

I would not have laid good money across the table

For a deal so rank as this.

For the numinous moments

I have paid. For the wonder of miracles

Experienced on beaches or in backyards

For love dancing always beyond reach

Always an admiration with the space in between

An uncrossable moat, an inaccessible moment

Where someone would love me in return.

Ah yes, I know about God & angels & I have

Talked with the elementals who grew roots on cuttings

For me, on plants I gave away to accommodate

That which walked alive around my life.

This has been the place where I’ve learned independence

From all else, over all else, above all.

This is the location I have reached

Where the familiar & the strange

Suffer each other in a silence broad & unbroken.

Here, of the here & now, this place

Where a heart breaks once again, but there is no blood

Only a sound unuttered.

The Gift Refused

Still trembles, being laid down

Walked away from.

Still holds its own elbows

Twice broken & crooked.

Weak with incomplete repairs

For some wholeness is never achieved.

The trick is to make it not matter

To find that sweet place where it no longer matters:

This imperfection, where a cup never reaches the lips

Held in that hand, where a blessing given from it

Is still whole, still love, from which light

May emanate, inexorable.

And of course, it does

Of course, this hand passes through the walls

I have built with it, the crooked holds with just

A rhyme of leaking.

I have grown into my imperfections,

My incompletions.

I have lost the idea of flawlessness

I think I tripped over it in darkness, an absence of light.

I did not turn it off myself,

Nor did I protest its dimming-out.

It does not matter to no longer be strong

To not care when my sins turn inside out & show to all

Faint, devoid of grace.

I have none of this & all of that & still am clean

As my God made me.


Fading like wallpaper in the sun

Dim & unremembered; it never was

Let alone did it crowd my doors

No paparazzi smoke outside the house

Awaiting my emergence

They are long away on wings of molten fame

Where everything happens to anything

Just like they were told it would.

It’s okay, I’m still friendly

I haven’t bitten any hands offering me food

Nor snarled at those who forget & forgive

With whom I’d be more comfortable should they now.

The old feelings do not abate

Nor fade

They just distance.

But when brought ‘round again

Show up my imitation absolution

For what it is: I am still that

Creature of sin & imperfect reparation

Bewildered separation

Losing light as if it never was.

And that’s okay, after all.

This was never supposed to be the ultimate 24/7

But it was good as it gets

Up to here & that will return.

The ineffable joy of my being

Will refill on the next high tide

At some point, I will no longer notice

What never was.

The Wild Pigs of Fortune

These words, as delicate as unicorns

Seeking virgins across a flowered meadow


Wild pigs of fortune

Rooting morels of richest flavor

Growing in ragged rings

Trailing under trees.

I have dined on hope & horror

That sweet & sour of life –

I choose my plate & am served,

The pickiest of eaters

No longer starved but selective.

There is a future of poetry quiescent in me

Until it surfaces

An inexplicable sea of languaged possibility

An electricity of words

A rumpled lightning honed in thunder:

A power of music & movement

A violin plucked in silence

As solid as any ephemeral

Ringing the drums of inner ears.

I sing as it threads from me

Pure, honied notes

Caught in a seine of glisten      

Unfolding in echoes

One word spawning a generation of new thoughts.

The Magnum Opus of my earth-days

Breaking forth in syllables,

A waterfall of words

Manipulative argot yanking me

This way & that

Finally bouncing off the sky

As light breaks through.

I quest the possibilities of expression

For you, panning a seine net for gold nuggets

We can spend on the future

Cooking up possibilities where

We retire from the table, patting

Full bellies,

An unexpected belch of repletion

Bringing a smile since

There is simply no room for dessert.

Before the Cat Died


Tisanes of my own making:

I still say coming forward for others

Is more than my own reality

The vague blur of expired lenses

Less keen than real perceptions

The radiation of my Chernobyl life

Pulsing in the machinery.

My heart decides its own measure

Diverging from the body’s hosting.

Finding that  hidden doorway,

I sit shivering in shiva for myself.

Once held so closely to my chest

Now put aside in contemplation

Of The Other.

Yet this is current reality

My clickbait body

To which I return each morning

While sliding down the ropes of immortality.

I land with a jar of bones & teeth

In the town of not-enough & nevermore

The boundaries of why bother

Tightening their borderline personalities.

Will I mist to shadow

Transmogrify to barbered edges?

Shredding & shedding humanity for the Divine

The nature at central core

Patiently emergent.

Shall I pick my way through minefields

Fraught with memory, unbounded, unleashed, unremembered?

Does it matter?

As one among many

Unmanned by the sheer topography –

Of this experiential life,

Once glossed by heaven

This blank page

Forever scribbled now

Crossed out

A mess of blots & misspellings

A dictionary of what not to do.

My mind off to the side

While heart seeks another drummer.

Of all the doorways along the

Corridor of Eternity

Of all the tiger or the lady decisions

Shall I find forgiveness only in salvation’s selection?


The channels of perception


Repelling static for clarity

I fight free of the physical

For the liminal of heaven

Washed by words

Scarred by sayings

I glisten at tidal edges

Will love refashion & reconstitute

Who I shall be?

Will crass materialism win over

Incandescent immortality?

I wander fields of inquiry

When answers are only found

Along the horizon.

Like babies

Cats keep their own timelines

Pulled to the watered-silk moon

An insistence upon awakening

Shedding sleep like virgin’s tears

Of awakening to a man sleeping alongside;

To single digits on the clock

From sleep to not-sleep

A bleary coming-to

I cross & recross that boundary

Between morphia & the mangle.

Her plumed tail floats last out the door

Her existential nature of query

Draws no worry in the night

She only wants to walk about in it.

I’m hardly awake & worry catches

Me up in headlong rush

Enough! These thoughts need brighter light to think

I drift upon the couch, ticking time

In decisions.

Pain is a slowed-down travel companion

A discernment rushed into decision

A refocus upon the means to journey

Through to the promise of arrivals.

Darkness to light

The words ride a tunnel into the light.

The night

Picks its way among gardens & highways

Taking cities by storm

Bringing the brace of salt & bitters

To a candy life

Too sweet to manage alone

I reach to friends who break taffy edges

I savor them as only perceptions

Of spice to be stirred into the stew.

Broken Like Mercury

The pieces of my life forever flow

In reuniting

Yet every bubble reflective of itself


A balm to unhealed wounds.

I put my hands into the word-soup of life

Pulling out the same-same over & over

Putting them to a picture

Moving along sure edges,

Fitted to an

Other-where of perception.

Indentured abandon

Not yet an adventure

But simply a promise

That all will be new:

That all will be well.

Finished: the Night

Apace with poems

A toe-thorned cat asleep nearby

She purrs to hear me wake

Welcomed to morning

By her expectations.

The numbers on the clock-face

Are liquids soon abandoned

For the solid day

Soon abandoned by the sun’s

Hearty sibilance for the stutter of rain

My erratic heart abandons rhythm

In errata of timing: I am asymmetrical

Wondering will it also abandon me?

I have left off the lid on fear

Once contained

I pull the braided measure

To watch it unravel.

There is none but this now

I have survived to this hour

This night

Only me speaking

One hand clapping

The applause of a universe

Knowing no appendages

But only self-regard.

Will I close one eye to eternity

Or decide to have no body

But only a wing & wonder?

Unexplored, lost joy recovered

That relay of open gates

A call to angels to attend me

A sustenance of grace attendant

To continuing on

Bodiless as a naked soul.

None to greet me in dystopian Paradise

A chair in a corner

A pen & pad

To rewrite me into another life.

Death Is An Invisibility Cloak

Life recedes behind me

A memory before a dream:

A place where God looks up from His desk

Adjusting His glasses

Laying down the Book of Life He writes

To say, “Oh, there you are!

How was it?

Again, why did I create you?

When  you passed, a thousand drums went dumb.

Come here, my girl, tell me all & that you wrote what you lived:

The banal & the miraculous…

Do you remember all the times you touched My face in passing?”

I will cross the room in laughter,

“Father! I made it! It was extraordinary!

However did You think of it all?”

I will be whispering for all eternity

Now penned in heaven

Awaiting Your words.

There Were No Clocks

As I drew my last breath

Released in a rattle: there

Was no time left to record,

Only words scattered on the floor

Of my mind.

It was all for You, after all

And I’m not sorry for the mistakes

Or falling from grace to land on my face

In the mangle of years.

Searching only for the

Exit, the entrance,

Knowing neither right nor wrong

Would enter anywhere beyond this realm

The physical of living too well

While overdressed & compliant with survival.

I bought life, spending all that I had

I hand You my purse, empty of only Love’s royal return.


The Fountain & The Feather


I saw the angel from four blocks away

I hesitated, trembling: I heard him say,

“I know you from among the stars –

You’re one of them, you’re wholly ours.”

But somewhere his voice became a song.

He held out a hand I shakily took

He pulled me in closer, he gave me a look

Not one word aloud, but a music arose

He tugged me forward, I stood on his toes.

We danced together down an empty street

That led to a fountain so cool in the heat.

He trailed his wingtips, I soaked my feet.

No words were needed, nor did we say

Together, invisible to all on the way…

When a kid popped between us, tossing a dime

And grinned at each of us, one at a time.

At sunset we parted. I watched him fade

One feather remained; one only had stayed.

I reached for it slowly, glowing & white –

When a small hand quick-snatched it into the night!

That child again! Not home in his bed?

“It’s just what I wished for!” He hollered & fled.

Carol Borsello

July 1, 2022

What Mortals!

Each time I return

It is as a Stranger

Earning again through unfamiliar lands

Knowing not the traps & triggers

Of permissible behavior.

But a good grasp of generalities

Keeps me fed.

I came here for the Greatest Adventure of All Time

When time was not real, but a construct in the minds of eager energies

Spinning on what started as an intoxicating play of light & shadow:

Hide n seek: we hid God: Now we seek.  

Ah what fools! What mortals we turned out to be!


One Eternal Day

Life stalks me somehow. Even when I shave my head & hide,

I look out to see Life peering in, making sure I live in this kingdom.

Life needs me – yeah that’s what I tell myself, when each path

Leads me right around into the fray;

When each stream by which I meander empties into

An ocean where I’ve stood many times

Watching myself set sail

On the voyage of this

One Eternal Day.

I know now the drama happened

When I wandered into a fractal

Seduced by a happier ending.

I moved through much & into many –

Lifetime by lifetime, like stones across moving water

Each an enactment of what I’d learned in the past.

That’s why they began to stick together…

The rowhomes in my mind,

Each with a ghost in the attic.

The closer I am to sunset

The more I see in the also-familiar darkness.


If you believe in monsters, they’ll devour you

If you do not, are you incautious?



I believed in monsters more before

Than now.

I was concerned once upon a time for myself

But now I really want to avoid the collateral damage.

Knowing how we’re all connected, & that.

I haven’t run away for years now.

It’s time.

There is no connection.

Every haircut is a rebirth, a do-over.

Then I look in mirrors to say, “Still not you!”

“You’re that Universal Kelly Girl with a new ticket down on Market Street.

Get your gloves on, girl, we leave soon.”

There is only a real world when you start divesting from it.

The world clings … a scarf … a stone.

Set these aside; the NWO is right in wording if not intent:

          You will own nothing & be  happy.

                    It’s not a threat, they don’t own that.

                    What happens with birds of the air who own nothing

                              Yet to whom all is given?

                    So are we meant to be.

Source tickles us with Light, sudden flashes,

          Snapshots well-laden with memory –

                    An afternoon in a fall of light to camera

That moment the wave became particle

A paint-ball from your pineal to mine, so tenderly awakening

From its dream of light to our Reality.

Revisiting the Cave


When Climbing Through a Sipapu

You do not question handholds.

You accept rain as your due

For the upcoming world expects

You to be moist with dew

When you emerge into

Your blessing for occupying

The Dry Lands.

dry, as in dust-dry,

bone dry.

Little marrow left, whittled

From warrior into Weapon.

Emerging into a where assuming color

As you look, taking shape as you imagine

Ok, so here’s the visual I Got:

and comes with a Warning:

‘Read it as you will,

lullabye or bullroarer,’

But read it for the sake of God!’

The God Who is alive in you

At times as dry for doctrine as you a drink.

Spirit has a shy approach for

All my Faith’s so strong.

She is as silent as sure

No longer needing Proxy

That divine realignment of self to higher-self

To me is Enlightenment.

It taps one shoulder so both tremble

Give a tiny    startle     of attention.

Mine bring a smile: What is coming to me?

Or dare I hope –  one more heartache leaving?

I breathe & am breathed in return.


yeah, me neither

guess my New Age belief system has

only adequately prepared me for anything

happening after that.

I have this boatload of beliefs I’ve

been banging along behind me,

this entire she-bang

of opposing opinions.

What I’m saying is I wouldn’t mind

If a cosmos push wanted to

Connect with my tush …

Here what I’m sayin’?

Like move this all into recycle for me

Someone else’ll use it

I guess I need a pretty good break from my mind


That’s what got me into all this.

Sign by Register: “Remove Ears On Check-in”

We’re laying down a soundtrack now.

Are the quarters prepared?

Best we could, Boss, we checked his blueprints twice.

Why don’t you run me through the main menu, please.

OK, Boss, nothing you haven’t heard before

I’ll be the judge of that, sir.

Ok. Just generalities; gotta keep these things fluid

what with the Free Will factors to circumvent.

We’re already skimming the line on that one.

The usual: school, other kids, family alterations,

Physical, if it’s on the plan.

Prob’ly marriage

Career vs. anything else to have a living

Move in with physical again,

Then go for the end, come on, Boss,

You know the rest.

All right, all right. On your way,

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