sorting (2018)

January 5, 2018 § 3 Comments


So in the up is down department I now have a folder, spawned from sorting through the ever growing pile of saved scraps of paper the next project to catapult past inertia and entropy and every other foil, and the sickness that all those hordes of saved scraps is, or could become, having heard myself say, I can’t keep every good idea I ever had and so in a fit of what a good idea is this, deciding I would send my small ephemeral treasures to others, they should could and would have the delight and burden of throwing them out or passing them along or who knows saving them…

Anyway there it is, the proud yellow folder in the new charcoal gray file cabinet the other one in the throes of the tidying turmoil having developed a drawer closing malfunction and so needed replacement, titled: CAN’T KEEP EVERY GOOD IDEA I EVER HAD.


Yup. Full of heretofore saved bits of paper with just those words printed on them.

And which will accompany all the outbound ephemera. Forewarned is forearmed. And I’m happy to put you on my mailing list. (judigoatyahoodotcom)

Sugar and spice & everything nice

July 8, 2017 § 2 Comments

not to mention orange.

on the occasion of 65

July 7, 2017 § 2 Comments


poem 30 2017

April 30, 2017 § Leave a comment

blue bunnies in a box

as if everyone knows
the shorthand the in-
side joke as if they’d
know what to do with
sad or humiliated or
angry as if everyone
knows how to read
or knows the difference
between freedom and
nothing left to lose as
if overjoyed is better


poem 29 2017

April 29, 2017 § Leave a comment

there was quiet between us

between . . . . . . .. . . … . . . .us
again, like the summer lazy
river or Sunday’s winter
afternoon nothing left
to do but
enjoy the quiet
between us,

poem 28 2017

April 28, 2017 § Leave a comment

ever 21 the tag said

the sleight of hand
gauzy glitzy black
with oh so short sleeves
the better to show sleek
shapely arm muscles
if you had them it
was the sequins that
caught my eye but
truth is the sleek red
and black long sleeved
slinky cover more of
me up top took the day
even if I am ever 21
it is a lie

poem 27 2017

April 27, 2017 § Leave a comment


round*a*bout this business of circling
back to figure out the what’s what of where
you’ve been and calibrating memory
to account for its own folly