Enjambed (ABaAabAB)

Hands I see in a city beholden
Of hidden souls unfold
An old man’s umbrella that deflects the sun.
Hands I see in a city beholding
The empty pannier who speaks with men
And I — I barely miss the bucket and mop in his dark cold
Hands I see in a city beholden
Of hidden souls unabashedly bold.

Between the pleasure of the game and the complexity of the puzzle, there are gaps and leaps in a child’s growth.

Child in a puzzle

A boy of 23 months holds the pieces of a puzzle in his half-attentive gaze. Once again he’s squaring a square, making small, precise movements, scanning lightly over their common shapes, looking for an idea, a reason.

Either the pieces fall together soon or he switches to another game.


Did you ever plan and feel excited, and then instantly heartbroken when those plans fell through?

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Polyamory is not the same for anybody. Not even between the lovers involved. My own particular version is shaped by a lot of questioning.

With no easy answers.

The questioning never ends. My current inquiry is about whether making plans is thee same as making promises.

My current answer is…

Those who swing and put the ball in play, even a dribbler that lands inches from the blundering catcher, scores more runs than a walk.

Batty Ball .. Thank you Tex Avery

A little background

I grew up in the country that invented baseball. I’ve also played for the last 10 years in a European country that has resisted the sport, preferring instead to kick a bigger ball back and forth — all day, every day.

Besides, there’s no room in Europe for the expansive…


Writing from the heart

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