And Mine Were Not Green

Regrets are never really undone, are they?

Exqusite Delusions


We speak of our regrets

as though to be undone

the last of winter’s cold

returns at summer’s end

the downfall of the leaves

the garden’s time to grieve

We store all our last faults

and will the land to bend

bring what the season yields

from which we earn our wealth

you sought the earth’s last row

hand in your harvest plow

We see the way to turn

undo the fallen theme

the dried flowers shatter

I work against the dark

and the sun’s weakened light

reverses and is bright

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Embrace the Paradox

Thorny….. in a good way


The answer to love may not be hate

and impatience is not about having to wait,

but what if failure is success

and the key to life is found in death?

Some say birth is a curse;

non-existence sounds worse,

and the happiest marriage

can turn to divorce.

School’s the place where we learn

to be fools.  Go to church

if your aim is to give up the search.

Those in prison don’t forget

there’s a sun that has risen

and a nightmare’s awareness

proves at least that you care.

As you go through each day,

please refrain from dismay,

and don’t fret when the game board

begins to decay.  You don’t need

anyone else here to show you the way.

Take the world for a walk, then–

tell me what do you say?

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