Such white hairs glimmer and glint with resolution

As they float and grab and cling to nearly erased invalid assumptions

Such is the accuracy of social cues from someone toward ill

As opposed to someone ill-sorted toward.


Then a sudden gold spot hits the hair

And it celebrates the correct and proper fall

To an earth newly solid

Under feet freshly shod with the righteousness

Of just-born empathy for the commonness of ill-sortedness,

Now tip-toeing a winding path towards self-acceptance.


Now waiting for additions to the laundry list

Now required as rope-lines

Now growing closer together

Now focusing the gaze beneath the

Now whiter-haired, more gleaming-haired

Now resting on strengthening shoulders

Now waving before just comprehended eyes

Now flying before the fresh winds of love.



The experience of cleaning and decorating and arranging and assuring and donating and clustering about refreshments together with those not cueing socially but cueing protestingly willy-nilly out of need and discomfort and ill-gotten love

stimulates a growth in wisdom on the part of the bestowing, waiting-for-cues, one who now knows the desired cues are just floating a microcosm away, just begging for a lodging place in the conciousness of the waiting, white-haired one who

suddenly understands that little voice within the golden light beam to be saying, “Stop thinking, just be.  Stop waiting, just love.  Stop speaking, just be.”  Truly, the white hairs become golden once again!






People think they are friendly

When they speak to themselves

In the mannequin images

Of those they think they know well–


In the postures of those

They think like them

In the waiting places of those who do not

Know themselves



Alone beside myself when

The first person who

Spoke to me out of

Twenty had just been

Pronounced a very good man

With a nod and a wave of judication

And just been corrected

By his wife allowing me in my corner


Back to prose thoughts of the day: many unanswered questions:

1)  What if you never received any social cues except the backs of people?

2)  What if my positive social cues are all online?

3)  How are violent domestic extremists not lonely?

4)  How can we learn to fall into the “right place” when we fall out of ourselves from being touched?

5)  Do the vibes from our hearts defeat gravity and radiate to other spheres when our fleshly heart ceases beating, where they will perhaps spark a light back to a dark hearth down the street, around the corner, over the hill?

6)  Regarding our essence: does the need to maintain a strong backbone defeat the development of a flexible wishbone (see: Clemtine Paddleford)?

7)  Isn’t it good enough to nurture a single rose for my garden and allow the rose’s sweetness and beauty to draw in that one friend to make the rest of my world, Leo Buscaglia?

8)  Will those preparing for the Apocalyse, carefully keeping blank faces, conserve their energy for refueling their lamps into the coming darkness?

9)  Will these skimping lamplighters succeed in nudging the timeline of their own conclusions backwards into their yesteryears?

10) Will these narrow lights of the straight-faced keep their lights shining on the details of their retreat into the storing places of their endeavors?

11) Will the door open at their approach to reconsiderations, or will it swing into the bodies of their deeds abraded by rushing past their brothers?

12) Do we dwell in shyness to be warm, and as we grow cold in loneliness, grow angry and warm ourselves with wrath?

13) Do we wave at just one other as we set about to hide so that one will knock for admittance to our self-absorption?


Profiling others bends our noses, squeezes our eyes, twists our mouths, so that we are unrecognizable at the gates and are left to wait by the firepit.


NOTE:  All of the above verses and questions are being prompted by:

1)  Occupy Wall Street

2) U.S. vs. three states regarding pending immigration laws

3) My own challenges in balancing the need to “wait” for “proper” social cues before speaking out and the need to steadfastly, firmly, gently stand on the side of justice.




Gaining perspective

on social cues

no good for the eight ball

Missing shots in the side pockets

of dollars worh of debate

Bending over backwards

to English the corner pocket

and stirring the dust

of confusion up around

the low lights of all our assumptions

at least, all YOUR assumptions

While mine just fell through the cracks of my dearest props


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