Where words cannot go


spaces, voids and places 

with no way to name

boundless sensation

no picture to frame


dwell in my deepness

marrow of my soul 

rooted in heartwood

parts in umbilical whole


Some radiate heaven

paradise past tell

some mutely suffer 

agony like hell


ache like astronaut 

clinging by eyelash thread

to a mother ship

where the crew is dead


joy like fairy lights

that in my yard glow

beaming out a hope

where no word can go


vacuum sealed sound

concentric circles fall

collapsing on themselves

mute conical wall


formless thoughts and faces

flit in nightmares dreamed

but when I catch them

they're not what they seemed


Yet they're there and real

deep in secret well 

intangible tangent

no seer can foretell


heard but unspoken

penned in invisible ink

beyond my line of sight

I miss them when I blink 


like wee red spiders

or tiny dust mites 

you only know he's been

by his painful bites


But for all the bad

that falls on deaf ears

much voiceless delight

my spirit still hears


with bone deep reverb

sound without volume

too low for sonar 

in full body hymn


down below bottom 

more felt than heard

past hell's 7 layer 

this loudly silent word


a void that sat vacant

is filled to the brim

flooding with light 

corners that were dim


pulsing each heartbeat

the psyche's EKG

sung in living color

by astral choir in me



Amen. 









Oh Captain, my captain dear...


monarch in residence

presiding from a tree

marooned on the beach

my driftwood deity


pirate king's throne on

schist striated sands

black to tan ombre

in mica and quartz bands


crowned with flowers

woven by his queen

in woodland frolics

midsummer's daydream 


bandana flag waves

like ruby red sail

from back pocket of

blue jeaned admiral 


Adonis adorned 

master of the sea

exhales cigarette

Puff in Honalee


Ponders the great lake

horizons deep and wide

muses how far it is

to the other side


Captain, my captain

permission to board?

this one man vessel 

of the barefoot milord


I'll man the mainsail

you the rudder steer

there's cheese to share and

an icebox of beer


I think on such as these

as the years hit 44

riding each tomorrow

to reach the far shore


But it's not the start

nor the ending bells

but in-between times 

is where living dwells


we've many landings

memories yet to make 

before our final bow

and curtain call take


So rev this tramp steamer

and take 'er out to sea

I'll ride with you, luv

to infinity. 





(reflections upon a random snapshot taken by me of my boy, circa, 1983-ish)




When the Wind's in the Wendigo



the wind's in the wendigo

at my achy breaky lake

vision found and lost

in a sick headache 


upside wrong way up

right side upside down 

here we go again

round the Mary-go-round 


feel a spiral coming 

migraine black and blue

brain cacophony 

no idea what to do


Make the bad man stop

try to stem the tide

with a goldfish net

with holes way too wide


all my hard work ruined

painting washed away

shushed imagination

where antelope did play


Chilkoot befuddled

muddy rainbow puddled

Tlingit blanket frayed

Seed beads all muddled


The wind's in the wendigo

my lovely fine pine time 

Dissolved by acid rain 

One more nightmare, mine


The end of the beginning...

Milo's tree fort






my grandson Milo and I

found a tree fort made of pine

near a school playground 

we thought it mighty fine


carefully he inspected 

another's house design

in ice-cream drip shorts

explored evergreen shrine 


Tipi-d tripod branches 

leaning companionably 

like friends on each other

just like Milo and me


we admired the needles

arranged upon the trees

prepping for the winter

to weather wind and freeze


He found moss growing

softly wild in the wood

upholstered a log chair

as great-great grampa would


Then he kindly invited

Omi to take a seat 

all pillowed in moss green

so I could rest my feet


we imagined a bedroom

"quite small" judged he

perhaps it was a closet

where the broom would be


The smell of the woods

lives in a fir cone

from forest by the beach

which he is taking home


a gestalt wonder feast

painted thistle and lime

marram trails to wander 

in a dune old as time


I shall dream tonight

of our cozy timber home

I know he treasures too

our shared lakeland roam. 


with love from Omi to Milo. 7.21.2026


Wear the Bay City Roller trousers and the damn tam-o-shanter too!



As the moons spiral by

and wrinkles in time, add

elder Omi repents some

missed chances I had


mummified by fear

wrapped tight in gotta bes

hampered by conventions

and will they judge me's?


their demands included

lots of work from me

yet excluded from perks

nor any reciprocity 


two sets of double standard

hats I didn't choose to wear

expectations handed down 

Burdens I never agreed to bear


Shrink-wrapped universe 

bespoke sizes too small

foreshortened horizon 

artificial fences too tall 


Too many vested interests

in the style cramped scapegoat

in muddy wedding dress

and tattered overcoat


I recant land-locked dreams

staying safe on the floor

shoulda punched the box out

and kicked down the door


too scared to smash ceilings 

for fear of falling glass

can't never did nothing 

by sitting on her ass


so locked doors remain

woodland trails untraipsed

too many effs given

so many not tasted grapes


Here's my advice to you

unsolicited though it be

you don't have to cower

learn a lesson from me


eat plums from the icebox

seize the ring of brass

fly your freak flag loud

don't let the parade pass


wear Bay City Roller trousers 

in Stewart tartan Blue

if dad says you look a fool

wear the tam-o-shanter too! 


in this game called being

you only get one shot

so take aim and make it

give it all you've got


play your cards to win

even if ya got a shitty hand

make your entrance with flair

strike up the kitchen band


The tilt-a-whirl will end

it's not that long a ride

you do the choosing of 

the direction of your stride


when the band's played out

when it's time to bid adieu

I hope you went with neon

and danced to your own kazoo


when Charron arrives

in ferry of tie-dyed hue

I wish blessed journeys

and Elysian fields for you


May you be met by

eternal arms open wide

may we all gather on 

Loch Lomand's bonny side







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