Michael's Fáilte

Welcome to these writing warmups, blatherings, rantings, meditations, perorations, salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to avoid the guilt that came in the crib for uttering something that would hurt or injure those in authority, being of everlasting servitude to all and sundry, having chosen the road not taken and the frost on the pumpkin long before the kettle turned black or the cat found its own tail fascinating,
Your humble servant, etc.

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea
Lava Meets Ocean. Lynx, Starboard Side. Day 2.Early Morning, July 8 2006, Looking for Flashes off Chain of Craters, Big Island

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Gossamer

I don't know why but when I was a kid
it came to me in solitude alone away
from games and others the way we skated
over the world chasing and touching
hiding laughing skinning our knees
breaking the fabric that covered us
protected us then no it came to me

by myself the garden weedstalks
pebbles stones the whirring of winged
creatures shadows damp places
beneath or behind thorns the slow
movement of the brown hairy caterpillar
the mystery shrinking expanding
coming down from trees by summer's end
something lost more found others
released blown away like dandelion
seeds and it seems my quiet discoveries
made their gossamer way to you
I can see it in your eyes
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