Sorry I’ve lost a few sources. If you know, I’ll add:

Horses go where the rider is facing. Look at where you want to go, not where you don’t want to go.

Putting people in trances is easier than keeping them out.

The Witness of the Waking State is so constant a presence in our lives that  it’s hard to stay aware of it…But it’s very important to learn to catch hold of and identify with the Witness of the Waking State because that changeless Witness is the One who makes it through the transition we call death….The detached spectator is the Witness of the Waking State. That Witness is who you actually are…Silently address yourself by your own name or he or she. It’s simple but it’s not easy…The “I”…is so full of itself and so used to starring in your show,,,,Getting that crucial distance from the emotional weather is what happens when we substitute the third-person pronoun or our own first name for that ever-captivating I.(I have a zerox page from the book on death by the author,  a Quaker widow. If anyone recognizes it please let me know.  I shouldn’t have let go of the book.).

It may be true that the unexamined life is not worth living but which is the best lens to use?

Although on July 12, 2019, at the bottom of the page on which “An ACOA’s Confession” appeared, I wrote:

“While continuing to try to continue organizing “my stuff”  I came across a passel of earlier poems.  I don’t know which have made their appearance in this blog and/or d’Verse, but I just felt like giving them a run-through again.  One a Day takes the —what was it?—away. Since I love my Media Library, I think I’ll add a random pix, also. (This must be what happens when you start getting old.)”

I decided this in part because my site has no stability–anything at all could be in the blog (and usually is).  So I decided that for a while at least (until the well runs dry) I could start including a different poem a day-either from my slush pile or maybe newborn.  Thing is, I haven’t been sharing the date written, which may cause someone to think I’m writing and publishing a new poem a day.

Now I feel kinda guilty about it.  What do you think? Am I misleading readers and should I include the date originally written?  I’d appreciate some feedback.

Petru tells me I should apologize to my good friend D’Verse for suspecting them of cruelty to 83-year olds.  It’s true I’ve hit the skids, and somehow a miracle subsequently admitted me to Thursday’s Open Link Night, for which I thank them and apologize.   (I’d already taken down my Dark comments.)

Hugs

I saw a Neanderthal in a pinafore…

Twice or more a year or so

my nose gets outta joint–

“The Roly Poly Poet”–I get no further

than that, you see, after so grand a title:

dead ends.

You poets out there know I’m sure

how sneaky words can pose a lure

in order to make you think

you’re on the very brink…

But some poems are dead ends,

never see the light of joyful welcome.

Sigh. We know it’s we who have

failed them.

Other poems  only lie on the dock

smelling fishy,,,

They do it  about twice a year now, as I said,

my words,  they want to play with me.

They jump into the dirt and roll, and

expect me to crawl in the mud after them–

which I do.  If I say thunder rattled

the window pane where does your mind

go next? I wrote a depressed poem called

“Down in the Mouth” and it was so bad

I wrote “Lighten Up,” both blessedly missing

from this diatribe.

“For shame, Alphonse,”

was my response when he suggested

a rendezvous–just we two. I got mad,

then sad, for though he was my sister’s

beau I always thought him cute, you know?