The “F” oF LiFe

When you feel a

certain shifting

it’s letter F



with some friends who

fare their own well

in a fine word

for a soul spell.








E, F, L? I

find your angles

free to be lines

left in tangles


unless flow gets


and light itself

proves what’s fated.



NOTE: The letter F looks like one half of set of angel’s wings. What does it mean to you?

Photo by mrpuen. Published on 27 June 2011
Stock photo – Image ID: 10047397




The room was tense,

and workers knew

that one was one—

who once was two.

“Take that, not those!”

they heard him shout

as books were tossed

toward her new route.

Some antique art,

a tabletop,

a mop, a broom,

an empty heart.

The great desires

in things amassed

dictated drive

to excise past.

NOTE: This poem the result of a conversation I overheard when visiting a consignment store. The photo is of an Ocotillo cactus. It was taken when I stuck the hand holding my camera”phone into the midsection of this thorny plant and focused on the sky above.




gave you traction

as she entered

compound fraction.

When she met you

at the corner

weren’t you anti?

How’d you warn her?

O, you couldn’t!

You were blinded

by the aura

she reminded!

So what passed in

straight vibration

was just salt of


“If a particle and an antiparticle meet, they disappear by emitting two photons or a pair of some other particles.”  ~Alexander Kusenko, a senior scientist with the Kavli Institute for the Physics and Mathematics of the Universe.

Photo credit…I took it from the passenger seat in some little town in Ohio where the corner appeared to have a magic quality. Perhaps it was the sun’s reflection or the way the cord was supplying energy to the GPS system in the iPhone, but to find magic in Ohio I’m told is rare. July, 2015

I, Traveler


to leave no braille

or soft footprint

on journey’s trail.


It started with

a lock of hair

sent to the wind,

for bird to bear.


This DNA

did not disrupt.

It added points

of interrupt.


A home of nest…

or nest of home?

From hair of heart

or out of comb?


NOTE: On the first evening of a long journey, it was necessary to rearrange items in the car. As I inventoried an assortment of toiletry items, I noticed that my hairbrush needed to be freed of some twisted strands. A gentle, cool breeze was blowing; birds were singing in the distance. While I cleaned the brush, I made a decision to release the hairs into the wind and a wish that they would become construction materials for a nest. There is a song about leaving one’s heart in San Francisco…leaving hair in Frazier Park, California might be the next worst thing to do.

Image credit: “Earth And Nest” by renjith krishnan,