POEM: OCCULTED MAN, WAITS.

A thousand years inside a stone, at the bottom of a frozen...lake. Glacier slow the earth reactors warmed it, the sun dried up the lake. New green showed it's tender leaves. And crowding in around, and thought it theirs.   Years flicker in time, like bubbles in clear glass. Images from one brief life, onto the next. I've lived a life of just one day and lived also a hundred years...

Poem: What Next!

Eight-carbon molecules in rivers of waste, and the sun in a sack cloth hauls itself up again into the sky. And looks down in disgust at what was...a good idea. These mayfly lives passing through and piling up, one upon the other as sediments on the basement of this world. Build up in that wake of seconds upon seconds. Relent. Red cushion for a place to sit, amidst rancor. Nihilism for a heart and reluctance. And crazed mystics still keep pushing shopping carts up hills of abuse. And in a dream old Denis said "Paint that woman there, for she is the queen of the world...and she is angered by all this...", we standing in water up to our knees...