Am I as lifeless as the image

That dances before me,

Within its two-dimensional bonds

Of height and width?

Or does it ask the same questions

As it stares through this portal of glass,

Breathing and thinking in a world

That also offers depth and duration?

Which of us is the corpus

And which the reflection?

Both? Neither?

When we part company,

Who moves first?

And if I smash the glass,

Which of us ceases to exist,

Except in the multitude of shards

That fall to Earth?


(Images are property of owners and upon reflection, are used here without permission.)

Lost & Profound


Every once in a while, I like to pretend I am drunk and come up with something profound. These are some examples:

If you want to change the world, you’ll need a lot of diapers!

I don’t live in the past, but I do have a vacation home there

When all is said and done…why don’t people shut up?!

NEVER SURRENDER! Unless the other guy has a gun and bullets…I mean, geesh, you can always start over later

She wore a slinky dress, and proceeded to fall head-over-heels down the stairs

Do you think the first use of the word “typo” was someone incorrectly keying the word “type”?

Never be pedantic…and by pedantic, I mean, being annoying to people by giving too much attention to minor details or by correcting unim…

That which does not kill you, only makes you paranoid that there might be a second one

Insanity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

If you can’t tell a book by its cover, why’d you put the bloody title there?

Do words ever fail a mute?

I’ve never been a fan of using grate-protected high-speed rotary blades to generate unidirectional currents of air

I find echoes repeat on me

(Image is property of owner and is used without permission until I am profound out)

Highway 401

Snowflakes hit the windshield / Like a swarm of angry bees

And are swept away as quickly / To make room for their brethren.


Clouds of frozen heaven / Scurry across the highway;

Riders on chaotic steeds / Dancing in a winter rodeo.


The car is buffeted / By the ever-changing winds,

And Zephyr’s howling wolves / Keep back all possible speech.


Ahead in the gloom, / Angry red eyes of devils

Waiver to and fro / Across sheets of black ice.


They slide into earthly clouds / Following well-worn lines,

The desperate marks of earlier travellers / In the uncertainty of the storm.


The normally limitless universe / Is bound on this night

By the visible few feet ahead.

The pathetic beams of headlights / Are white canes for blind drivers

Reaching cautiously into the unknown.