in a straight-back, lightly-cushioned chair
in the front room, in the sun,
i can spend the noon hour
thinking of how time has run.

.

challenge

waitress poured me a coffee
so high in the cup
to make it a challenge to balance a sip.

.

It's written there -
Seven, the year of it … how grand.
from dull white into passing age's smoke,
the breath of shouts, fires, and exhaust.
vapors on weathered alabaster turned the chalky blanched monument
the tone of parched and dirty fog.
worn, pocked,portions missing, others in danger of falling ...
this solemn icon known the world over:
The Colosseum

.

Borghese

A camera man setting up,
sun is bright, the day cool.
an hour to go.
fractions of quiet words in many languages
...
all wearing 21st century casual,
there are no dresses.
a few flash haircuts, to the scalp on one side.
the parade passes in masses, then thinner
by the start of the hour to begin
into the Borghese

.

it is tough

it is tough being a guy
when you get to the age
women are smarter.

this park

this park at the end of the street
that changes names to get here
where i have a bench in the sun
on such a good afternoon for warmth
in city stillness as can be expected;
a balance of all i appreciate.
there is a statue of a man sitting
hand over his face. years ago i drew this.
nothing has changed but the day, me
and the sun.

October skies

take some steel and winds
not great, but easy.
color them rolling,
skies alive.

lost power

lost power, didn't take a big hit,
enough to set clocks a blinking
that's it.
oh, and the lights on the stove flashing,
maybe there are other indicators.
time will tell, hah.
for sure the day has been interupted.
a change of plans has occured.
so we put it back together
and see wat else we can find.
surprise flys on wings called disturbance
... anytime ... stay ready

find the tea that appeals
sip it and wonder