::imaginative introspection::

Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.

Do you like the image of yourself?

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


i sing
out to the world
where anyone who cares to

listen, hears

and pour out the words that are carried in this heart
like thick honey on one of those cool
Cleveland days

the homeless man in the courtyard tips his hat
as he shakes his penny cup, too

i sing
out to the world
where anyone passing by
might turn their head, wonder

and think.

where is that voice? carried on the wind
like the message of some distant deity we hope exists.
their eyes drawn all around until the light changes
and they continue on their way

as i remain hidden
beneath the green green leaves
in that courtyard,
across from the homeless man shakin his penny cup,
between the statue of the virgin and the cool stone of the cathedral wall

i sing.
and listen as the coins in his cup shake out a beat,
watch as his faded suit walks down the path,
the world takes no notice
the cathedral bells ring out the call for mass
and he hums a few of my lines

i sing.


  1. I hear Walt Whitman in this. Beautiful.

  2. @Gerry: Thank you! He's one of my favorites--I learned how to read by reading his work with my father.

    @Brosreview: Thanks for the feedback!