A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.


book note

On about a winter
long hour cut short
During a terminal
afternoon too late
to abort, this momentary
reprieve arrives like
a slap on the stunned
chops of abject reflection.

In the rippled disarray
a forest of shadows beckons.
How does one decide between
fight and flight in a dream?
It depends on what one wants
out of life and remember, reality
is not what it might seem.


  1. THe title is a reference to what it actually is - a scribbled down entry in an old notebook I found (nothing more). I included it here for kicks.