Tendrils from the vegetable wild
prowl unchecked 
as they whip and rouse 
the stoic boulders,
unmoved by predictable tides 
and petulant ocean tempers.

Foreground/Background play
hocus pocus alakazaam
on the plane,
seeding doubts
that what you see
is what
you get.

Ancestral Dream

Unknown photographer.
ancient camera,
another lost memory along
the family highway.

My dad - 
in his late teens, high school drop out,
newly minted soldier,
sweet incomprehension,
shipping off to the Theaters of Europe
and  North Africa -
posing with his father.

His dad,
in gangster pose;
made a good living as the neighborhood
grocer - 
always drove new black Buicks,
paid cash, of course.
A basement bootlegger during the Great Depression 
he supplied bathtub gin to his side of the town.

With his stern, suspicious Eastern European stare
he wordlessly says:
"My boy,
you’ll find out soon enough.
There will be nothing for you
to smile about 
when you return."

These two impenetrable ghosts,
contrasting gravitas and innocence,
are branded in my wiring,
with meanings still unfolding.



Cathode legerdemain: 
emptiness made incandescent,
broadcasting ancient translations,
aural harmonies,
plugged in truths.

Electric shamanism transmitting
the early precepts of confidence,
unleashed modules of song,
tattoo space with drama and invention.

Sonic concussions remain
indelible in their
expansive reach.