Meditation # 28- Trying to Get Back to Zero


Two toads on the front
porch- a heavy rain
falling from a
darkening day down sky-

thundering Bossa Nova
overhead- writing seven
years worth of ink in
was it
two or three?


Smoking my final
cigarette for now
have another when
that old bottle is cracked-
who needs another
country western
disco song?

The blue media
machine has
ten thousand
ten thousand

Grateful old time
playing on the
jukebox of the
night- sweet songs


On the old family
radio hour Blind
Joe Melon sings
a Dead Father Orange
classic- “Dog Head
Under the Bed Blues.”

Consulting the old
media machine- quarters
line our pockets in the
spirit arcade- lightning
flashes across the sky like
neon on downtown cold
house grinners.

Exit Music plays against
a blue screen telling you
to go back home with the
tickets already in
your hand like an ode.

“Wherever you go there
you are,”
I heard in a song
one night goin’ down
the road. It was an
old CD- a
serendipitious buy, but
completely desultory.


Songs of silence on a
forest floor- volume
rising with the sun-
can’t sleep in under
that morning
sun shining
volume rising
alarm clock dream wreckage.

The melody of bells in
the night where
strangers laugh behind
the glass wall-
laughter forever ago being
released on a laugh track
infinity loop. An echo
reverberation of the
laughter of ghosts.

I’m afraid I don’t always
speak the language of the
poems I read- Spanish is
beautiful- eventhough
I don’t know but a few


5 thoughts on “Meditation # 28- Trying to Get Back to Zero

    • Thanks so much for the kind words. As for the inspiration- I was sitting on my front porch smoking a cigarette and a thunderstorm was coming on. I looked down and I saw the toad, and just began to meditate on my world.

  1. ‘strangers laugh behind
    the glass wall’ has such a mystical feel….also the last stanza about reading unspoken language….resonates and has so free breath…. ~ nice expression.

  2. I read this on Roy Beatty’s birthday and the first two stanzas particularly reminded me of Blade Runner. Overall it has a great atmosphere. But it jumps around to moments that are completely different from each other and feels like channel surfing through memories.

    That last stanza I can’t tell whether it is a stanza to your poem or a comment on it.

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