Wednesday, August 10, 2022

Musings 2021

 Musings - 2021

6755 words. 

Some typos. Some draft work.


Imaginary Paris

Sitting down together 

while I share stills of 

my time in imaginary


And where do you 

wish you had been?





The Great Awakening poem

or simply rolling over like a 

rodeo going back to sleep





Marisa leaving

Something about it 

Lacing her shoes

I looked again

And she’s gone


Poem 1/22/21 4:19 pm


Kristin Ihle - Dr. Dose poem shuttle story

I met a psychologist. Another psychologist. Again. And I can’t for

the life of me remember how we got onto the topic of micro dosing.

I’m sure I brought it up. I had just finished the Michael Pollan book “How to Change Your Mind” which is about a resurgence in the science of psilocybin.

Micro-dosing, apparently, is a ‘new’ way to introduce hallucinogens into psychiatric practice.

There has been some study, more recently, that seems to indicate

that showing a person larger reality helps them break free of

addiction. And she had a personal story. Her daughter-in-law had a

heroin problem. They found a clinic or retreat in Mexico. She

went. After a short while returned clean and shiny as a brand new


Unfortunately she did not clean up her connections. She kept her

job. She kept her friends. She kept her habits. And within six

weeks she was back to heroin addiction.

... ...

qq for Amelia 

I ran across a quote the other day that reminded me

of you. I searched online for an attribution and could find

nothing. The quote is this: “You fall in love with the people who

make you love the person you are when you’re around them.” I

wonder if you have run across this quotation.

Placebo Poem

We may think of a placebo as a pill.

I see it more as an agreement, a belief, 

an acceptance of the story that you, 

and the practitioner, put together.



Summer Sleepy

a thin summer sheet 

albino python partially 

draped lengthwise


a body caramelized by 

the long day sun 

ample thigh and 

rib meat


window open slightly 

drapery breathing 

underwear kicked 

off to the





... ...

Traveling Sand

I pop out of my nap dream 

like stopping on hyperdrive, 

huffing and puffing, short of breath, 

lips all dry. I must’ve been hanging my

dog head out the window, sniffing other 

star clusters.

I had been composing the invitation 

to my visitation and something

must’ve startled me.

Let’s review…

If it’s 5 January 2021 then I’m still alive and you haven’t missed

anything at all. Not to say you can’t still miss it somehow.

It occurred to me to release this now.

I’d like you to bring a thimble full of sand, your favorite sand,

clean I hope, and add it to my sand collection and the collection

of community gathering.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and more than enough sand. Think of

it like party food.  Take some with you. There will be containers.

Please take some fluff. Don’t make me take it all.

Then, some day, even on your way home, when you’re feeling holy in

the moment or even sacramental, drop me at waters edge.

Ocean, lake, river, creek, even a swamp will do, it’s gotten too

dry in this life. .... Get up and get to work …

You can buy some sand if you need to from the big box. You don’t

need to have anything delivered from the Sahara or gaudy like


Regular. Or special to you sand would be sweet.

Bring some with. Stir it in. Take some with.

Here lies the rest of David L White


© 2021 David L White 

poem January 5, 2021

Jigsaw Map poem

Anamorphic constellation 

The stars in your eyes 

You little twinkle, you


Performance placebo poem

You might not be sure whether 

Tab B belongs in Tab C but 

at some point you agree that 

this is what you needed to 

help you heal.


Shuttle Gardener 

I took a guy to work today. He’s a gardener. It’s a big place. 

He asked me to come around the back side

because the gift shop was busy.

He’s a master gardener. Lifelong. And I asked him to tell me some

of his favorite parts about his work. He said the best part is

it’s quiet and peaceful. And miraculous. There are plants and

animals no one‘s ever seen making an appearance on a regular


No one has ever seen? Well, perhaps. But these are different


Because why? No one has judged them. They don’t have names.

They’re not listed in the scientific journals. No one has measured 

or photographed them. No one has figured out how much

they’re worth on the open market. No one has set up a production

assembly line. The plants appear like miracles.

Mind you, there are certainly plenty of plants in the garden that 

people do know the names of. Oak trees etc.

I asked him if there were tours. Yes, but you have to be naked.

Naked? Yes. Not only without clothing but without recording

devices of any kind. And you have to go one at a time so you can’t

compare notes with anyone else on the tour. And this last

recommendation is the most difficult. There’s a short

psychological evaluation you have to take regarding your

judgementalism. If you’re a little too harsh they have a nice lounge

off the gift shop.

Over time things come and go and I’ve never seen this year and of

course he took me in a service entrance on the backside of the

garden. When I left him I decided to go see the roadside

attraction. Low and behold if it isn’t the Garden of Eden itself.

The parking lot’s full of tour buses and family campers. There’s a

line waiting for photo ops at the Tree of Knowledge of Good and

Evil. (as if it’s the only tree in the place.) God and the snake are 

juggling apples. Adam and Eve are autographing palm fronds.

The gardener did say you can come back anytime. Even after hours.

On the far side there’s a hole in the fence. You can keep your

pants on or, clothing optional. You can take photos too. But no

one will believe you.

There are cameras and sensors though. Actually brainwave, heart

muscle, detectors. Your intention is relayed. If you are overly

judgmental you will be escorted out immediately.



Happy People 

Yesterday I was riding with a guy. We passed the cemetery. Kind of

pretty. Quiet. Snow on the ground. He looked over at me and said,

“Look at all those happy people.”


Safe sound here now 

Reported turmoil elsewhere 

Is not here now.

Still safe sound

1/7/21 poem

Announcing for the First Time Any Where 

Hobo Daze finally meets Alphabet Zoupe and, 

announces a new wagon in the parade, 

Doctor Dave’s Traveling Medicine Show.

We’re getting the band back together. 

We got big a Chunk of Nothing

and we’re happy to share.


Poem (c) 2021 David L White 

Sunday 1/10/21 7:40 am

The Blank Page

tabula rasa

what to do with the sheet, the page, 

the yawning abyss of ever

ever never-ness

yawning, yowling

baby, not bored, still screaming feed me

What to do with anything 

ya damn well get your hands on?


© 2021 David L White 

Sunday 1/10/21 8:07 am

Lying there, usually flat and sassy, often black-and-white and

unapproachable with attitude.

you think it’s attitude or you just don’t get it not for you

Rather it’s an invitation beyond slow down but actually seek

connection and Begin to move


Poem 1/23/21

Off Road

The keys for the 

Hundred Mile Morning 

are hanging on the board. 

With other drivers strapping in

the dealer has no vehicle for 

this next leg of my journey, 

yonder we wander, off road we go, 

moving at the pace of creation.

© 2021 David L White 

October 21, 2021

There is nowhere else unless, until, 

we drag our here to there.


6/2/21 Poem

We’re getting the band back together. 

Big Chunk of Nothing and we’re happy to share.


Poem (c) 2021 David L White Sunday 1/10/21 7:40 am

art word poem 

If good and evil is a question 

the answer is in the middle. 

The word ‘and’ is in the middle. 

Good And Evil. It is

between, as a bridge is between, 

two edges of a chasm. Let go.

Jump off. Fall in.



Sound Healing

Reduce the noise.

Sound health. A little dusting. A tuneup. New strings.

Turn down the negative audio component.

I confess to naughty things and imaginings 

I’ve done to you 

with you

Imaginary Friends with benefits

12/30/21 poem

I don’t need a story.

No one is asking.

Not sure how …


poem 10/29/21

You can scrunch a peach And I can hold a prayer ,

while we both here in other rooms 

together in our underwear

... © 2021 David L White Mid-July Beautiful Indoors Poem

Paper, Palms, and Portals

It may look like the turkey that the kids brought home and hung on

the fridge. That’s OK. It’s great camouflage. The outline of your

palm is a labyrinth.

Start with a palm face down on a piece of laser paper.

Trace it in your mind.

Trace the shape with a pencil or a pen.

Trace it with your finger.


Now, slide away the paper and, with the index finger of your

dominant hand, trace your other hand. Palm up. Palm down.

I’ve heard it said that a person cannot tickle themselves. Try it.

Trace gently.


In the interest of consensual, non-carnal, connection,

A finger massage. Take turns. Make small talk. Or pretend you’re

looking for an insect bite. In other words…  you’re helping one

another. Attending. Breathing and being.

Scary? Maybe. Better than a hug. Get both. All. Get all.


First actual draft 1:58 PM November 14, 2021 Dedication: KF

Rude tuna sandwich

The tuna is rude because 

it came from a can.

Red onions are chopped, 

tossed up in mid air 

artfully and in slow motion, 

by a blind-folded matador. 

And these two items are 

dropped, simply, on slab bread 

with mayonnaise. 

Rude tuna wonders ... 

“Why bother to make a salad?”


October 21, 2021


I’m calling off my search for God 

and going into recovery mode.

The ghost dogs are howling.

I’ll meet you at the Garden of Eden. 

laden with gifts of fewer judgements.

Without our notions, we will be 

completely naked and slip through

a side door. If anyone asks tell them

God sent you.


July 31, 2021


























Instead of 

Let it Go 

you might just loosen your grip

a bit.

Your medicine, meditation, mantra, mission statement, 

and marching orders are all right here. It is the language we eat. 

We can program upgrades into our circuitry and cells 

because we said so. Because I said so.

My belly gurgles with desire and I stir my soup over the fire 

of exuberance. Alphabet Zoupe contains all the letters in the 

English language for use in your new story. 

Start like this: Zoupa! (think gusto and exuberance)

Here’s to your health!

Here’s to napping

after lunch.

Empire Crumble Cake: a recipe

Pissed that you missed my explicit wishes to cease chasing

opinions and conserve energy. Energy for the war, I mean, 

referenced by you, in this time of coup. I need quiet time 

to gird my loins, sharpen pencils, et  cetera, et cetera.

One might think I need to press my talents to the bloody front 

or my pen is not worth the paper it scribbles on;  that somehow 

art requires utility weaponized. Yet, here you are, with your 

fully loaded, mouth, sniping rapid fire opinions at my generals 

and direction- friendly fire perhaps, damaging still ... opinions.

Had I assembled all the facts, right, left, and center, and 

lined them up like soldiers, there still exist the unruly band

of dissidents, waving flags of dissonance, cognitive and

otherwise. Indisputable facts, my ass.

It has been said that one needs to choose a side. Right or

wrong.  Pro or con. Black or white. And I may say the choice  

is between war and peace. And I’m choosing  peace. And quiet.

Herewith I remind that I mentioned, early on, that I am near

deathly sick of my very own opinion, even, as well. The drums, 

the gunfire, the bloody screaming; friendly fire perhaps / damaging 

still. And you, you, are making far  too much noise. Your location 

has been compromised. I recalibrate the cannon.

I’m ordering a detachment of my detachment a seal team of

troops to bivouac deep in the thicket of your curious imagination

Listen for my camp tune; a reveille, a revelry of reverie. whisper

with me, quietly ... until it's

time to cut the horses loose and ride higher; launching biochemical 

offensives of oxytocin, serotonin, dopamine so that it reeks of love, 

joy and wonder, so thick and heavy that even moving … moves carefully

We will dance together on Smoke Signal Rock and watch the facade

of empire crumble. There will be cake.

© 2021 David L White

After the insurrection poem 


Tropical Lockdown

The tropical lockdown 

has encouraged me to 

excavate the underneath 

or nearly everything

while I am aware of 

storm surge flooding.

Get in. 

Grab on. 

Get out.

How much the worth 

in reclamation and

at what cost?

Or start, restart,

somewhat anew

fresh perspective

© 2021 David L White

Sunday, December 12, 2021

Seemingly shiny, 

superficial membranes, 

separate the simple

 and the other complex.

A mere touch may allow 

access to the realms.

Ask and be transported. 

Attend and transform.

Copyright 2021 David White

March 13, 2021

In the bedroom, away from the television, 

I hear the spring birds, outside the window, 

singing, at dusk

They must’ve gone to sleep as I write now

Still I am away from the television 

listening to myself sing this song

April 8, 2021

7:42 PM

As if to simplify

Let me tell you 

how close to perfect 

it (1) seems.

It (2) goes pretty quickly 

if we don’t compare 

anything. ???

It (1): the here now

It (2): the telling

© 2021 David L White

A writer merely

starts a book. The reader

finishes it.

- Samuel Johnson

This quotation spoke to me immediately 

and directly to any teeny, tiny tendency 

I have towards perfectionism. It certainly 

includes artists and entertainers in any genre. 

It includes your favorite quarterback.

Creators create. 

Consumers critique.

Free at last.

Free at last.

David L White

(c) 2021

Enough is

Enough is

Welcome Home

Levitate a galaxy 

in the palm of your hand. 

Spin it with your breath. 

Pretty cool, right?

And as you move it

you may very well

discern faces. Your 

own perhaps, too.

Welcome home.

Copyright 2021 David L White

November 24 9:28 AM

Audience Art Box

Whether country western lyrics or political cartoons, 

the audience very rarely comes in the bag with the art supplies.

The Artist needs to trot, two step, waltz, shuffle or otherwise

dazzle enough eyeballs until someone sees them in

alignment with whatever the eyeballs are already selling.

Or, one could wake up as inauguration poet star 

wearing Oprah’s earrings and, magically an agent, 

booking you on talk shows for a few,

giddy days

Good is good, right? Quality and quantity is the 

critic and consumer choice.

If I lift only my very own self, Let that be enough.


© 2021 David L White 


Nap Time

a thin summer sheet albino python 

partially draped lengthwise along

a body caramelized by the long day sun 

ample thigh and rib meat showing

window open slightly drapery breathing 

underwear kicked off to the floor




Hope Salts

Someday we will be together again, 

smiling near, sharing air,

just like old times, all brand new.


(c) 2021 David L White 

Early Sunday for jp 1/17/21

Oprah’s Earrings

We were needing a group hug some Oh My God some trans fixation

We were all ready to catch our breath to

and with that pair of hands dancing incantations.

Raspberry raisin in a bright yellow butter cup beamed straight up

in a spotlight heartbeat

a decent piece of poetry

refuses to any more lie flat on the page to go dark and gather


once the magic hands have blown it life and raised it up


© 2021 David L White 

January Saturday 23


Safely lost in the library.

Books just like trees where 

underneath the covers they share stuff

after a while immersion grows toward fluency


Poem 1/23/21


Junk Drawer Coffin

You know that old saying 

“You can’t take it with you”?

This is a permission slip. Get cremated, 

or some ecological upgrade, and take 

your shit with you. Put it a box with a 

nice marker.


© 2021 David L White 



Placebo Team Agreement

Placebo Poem

We may think of a placebo as a pill.

I see it more as an agreement, a belief, 

an acceptance of the story that you and 

the practitioner put together.

Apparently your belief 

is the principal ingredient.

(c) 2021 David L White

Poem 1/22/21


Imaginary Paris

Sitting down together 

while I share still photos 

of my time in imaginary Paris.

And where do you wish you’ve been?

We have time. Do tell.





The Great Awakening poem

or simply rolling over like a rodeo 

going back to sleep



Marisa leaving

Something about it Lacing her shoes

I changed windows And she’s gone


Poem 1/22/21 4:19 pm



Lying there, usually flat and sassy, often 

black-and-white and unapproachable 

with attitude.

you think “it’s attitude” or you “just don’t get it” 

Or “not for me.”

Rather it may be an invitation beyond slow down 

but actually seeks connection and begins to move




River Dance Cafe

Watch your thoughts … the gurus say. Just fine for watchers, yes?

Listening … I … hear so much more. Now my body jumps to change it


Let's dance with our thoughts jazz boogie, two step, line dance,

ballroom, waltz, fill in the blank, or simply sway in the breeze.

Resting between numbers at the River Café, we people watch and …

there … look … beyond … the flowing. Listen.

© 2021 David L White 1/30/2021


Two shovels, random not rhythmical, in and out of time together,

scraping sludge off the apron of the driveway, before the tomorrow

storm and deep freeze coming week.

Rubber boot heels clopping on the dry sidewalk, carrying sludge

away from the initial, five foot anchor piles

An occasional bird tweet in blue, blue sky and the immense quiet

of the snow cover on our dead end street. 

I can see the breath and hear the breathing.


Opinions et cetera

I’m less motivated to craft a story plausible to either one of us.

I'm not feeling particularly collaborative at this time. 

Creative energy calls me elsewhere. 

The Muse has my number. 

It’s an emergency. 

Gotta go. 



Poem 2/28/2021


The ways this could be different

Perhaps infinite or innumerable

Not that our computing couldn’t handle 

big numbers but that I, for one, would 

run out of steam long before the tomorrow, 

or later date of any final tally

The caring is missing. Especially since 

the speculation removes me

from this exact moment.

it removes me and here right now 

and ….

I’m happy enough


poem 3/29/21 3:49 am

Most of us are busy redefining the universe 

moment by moment. The poet however is 

on stage doing sound checks.

Rhythm, meter, assonance, dissonance, 

consonants, tooting and tuning the long vowel 

pronounced vow-elle, alliteration, internal rhyme,

playing with it all so that it moves so that the 

audience may sway. And hoot their approval.

The poet has little dreams for his percentage 

of concessions and merchandise. Perhaps 

an agent in the future.

There’s enough feedback from the empty seats.


Monday, March 29, 2021 6:40 AM

In the bedroom, away from television, 

I hear spring birds, outside

the window, singing, at dusk

They must’ve gone to sleep as I write now

and I’m away from the television still listening 

to my self sing this song. 


April 8, 2021 7:42 PM

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

Perfection is inevitable. Good And Evil are optional.

Thinking is inevitable. Conclusions are optional.

Options Available


poem 4/13/21

Momentarily Forever

“The hell with joy,” I say, 

‘Let it rain on the parade. 

Sugar momma promised. 

You know what she said.”

Know that I heard this also… 

I could sit with you, catch your eye,

hug you maybe, hold your hand, 

scratch your back, not say a word,

as long as not unbearable.

Not a word. Temporarily yours, 

Love. Sugar momma promise.


Poem for JB 4/30/21 6:08 am

Only Moments Remain

By only I do not mean few, 

depends on what you do, 

there may be fewer if you 

are waiting for later to arrive

Meanwhile, during the in between,


May Day 5/1/21

Jade Green

Do you think that there are more colors of green 

in the early spring than in August? Or are there 

the same number of greens but by then we’re jaded.

I asked Camelia, bilingual Spanish and English, 

if verde is the color green. She verified the verde.

What color green is Verde? Or, what are the names 

of the other colors of green?

She could only think of three. Grass. Pine. 

That’s only two. Neither of them 

jade green.


Poem 5/4/21

River Dance Cafe

Watch your thoughts … the gurus say. Just fine for watchers, yes?

Listening … I … hear so much more. Now my body jumps to change it


Let's dance with our thoughts boogie, jazz, two step, line dance,

ballroom, waltz, fill in the blank, or simply sway in the breeze.

Resting between numbers at the River Café, we people watch and …

there … look … beyond … the flowing. Listen.

© 2021 David L White 1/30/2021


Saturday mid morning

Tasty, sweet, and if you bite down too hard 

you may bust a tooth

and choke to death.

The fruit of the tree of knowledge of good 

and evil also contains

the pit of hell.

Yeah. Spit that out.


(c) 2021 David L White 

2/6/21 poem


Wistful, wonderful love.

The separation that is not distant.

The isolation that is not alone.

Wistful, wonderful love.

2/6/21 poem

As if to simplify

A seeming, shiny, 

superficial membrane 

separating the simple 

and the ever complex.

A mere touch may allow 

access to the realms.

Ask and be transported. 

Attend and transform.


© 2021 David L White 

poem 3/13/21



Watch your language. 

Watch your thoughts.

Listening works, too. 

Listening to your self. 

Speaking out loud.

Activating your voice. 

Out freaking loud. 

Play along.


(c) 2021 David L White poem


Betty Elsewhere

Gary Chattanooga, Sandy Indiana, Betty God knows where. 

The couple of garbage sleds parked in her driveway point to 

her back patio full of worldly furniture, sitting in the rain.

Bye bye, Betty Elsewhere


poem April 11, 2021


Theory and practice

We can speak about higher vibrations, 

as if, beyond theoretical.

We can also practice that speaking; 

rising up as theory indicates.

© 2021 by David L White 

May 22, 2021 poem


Stirring the soup as 

steaming aroma rises wood 

spoon clacking pot

... Poem Haiku 2/6/21 

Saturday after noon


Naming Rights

It's your life. Mostly.

Call it as you see it.


poem 6/23/21


Wonton pierogi poem

You can scrunch a peach 

And I can hold a prayer, while 

we both here, in other rooms,

together, in our underwear


© 2021 David L White 

Mid-July Beautiful Indoors Poem



On the evening that the UN issues a code red for humanity she is

hosting a graduation dinner at El Beso for her Monday night class.

The Tuesday class is also invited.

We may split a fajita or nachos. Also, it’s raining like hell.

We’ll have the umbrella. To go.


(C) 2021 David L White 

August 21 2021 poem

Picnic in Rumi’s Field

Hold Up and the River Bank

Discuss debate speculate form hold 

deliver opinions of little consequence 

Win lose right wrong

Like waves or tides or recurring anything 

I stretch my comfortable position.


Sunday poem

Close above the tree line 

geese flying south over the

river and before I could even 

think of camera I looked up 

and left it all behind



Nearing autumn, yet spring is springing with seeds reaching for

the light, tendrils stretching, buds blossom, harvest into soup …


She tells me she’s a model, Chicago bound for now and yet I see

none of the runway stereotypical, nonchalant, aloof, learned way

to stay safe when everyone wants something I, too, do wish now

merely to be seen

She is looking into, more than looking, seeing into me, notable,

and I am not afraid to be seen so clearly. I actually feel felt;

cared for.

The table is set and we eat this fleeting moment


© 2021 David L White September 17, 2021 

poem Hawa Mohamed Hawa Arbow


Listen. We are breathing. Together. While reading this.

I’m amazed. Hope you, too.


Poem September 29, 2021 8:24 PM



Everything and Enough

The quest continues as 

less an actual search 

and more of a


Hey. Look. There.





You need to be heard. 

Possibly by your own self. 

I think you already know. 

Say it. Joyfully.

Ears for rent. Eyeballs extra.


poem 10/17/21


When the sky is the same 

color as the ground and there

is no horizon in the snow, the 

geese go by, honking at the 

silhouette of trees, 

and whistling through

my pencil paper


October 21, 2021


It was amazing to meet Rumi in that field 

out beyond right and wrong. Old friends.

We lingered, and with nothing else to say, 

moved on. It’s no place to build a house. 

Spoils the view.


Poem October 29, 2021


Velveteen Frankensteen

I stitched this little dummy together 

from scrap fabrics thrown on

the floor and draped over the bed.

11/5/21 poem



What are you going to do?

Just love while silencing the background noise. 

That is the going

and the doing.

It happens like that in Hollywood and real life. Too.

Intense. Not howling, but the dissipation thereof. 

Silence overwhelming until all is well.

Run it backwards. Find the All is Well and the 

quiet might just pop up

and say hello.

poem 10/28/21


Blossoming into irrelevance

The impossibly complex does not seem to stop

until and when you do not poke it anymore. 

Momentarily simple


I’d hate to know so much about it, that I might tell you, 

in order for you to decide if I do or not - whatever.

It’s easier for both of us if I don’t know.

Or describing the here and now by wielding words 

as sharp as, or, similar to Ginsu knives,

portioning and plating Here Now into chunks 

with differing Use By dates.



Reprioritization algorithms

Juggling space time mirror balls 

without the circus noise and

cotton candy on everything 

invite me into flow so that

only the dance remains.


poem 11/3/21




Mind Expanding does not require 

psychedelics. Words and

meanings are a lovely step.

Thursday November 4, 2021



The swish of the all day night shirt 

dancing from window to window, 

following the day long sun 

while looking for pencil,

paper, coffee, glasses.


10:40 Poem 11/2/21



Sit on talking rock under a

breathing tree near living water

and me with a kite in the cloud puddle

fishing for yum yum custard pie


© 2021 David L White

DLW Poem Nov 20 2017 5:42 AM

Palms: presence and portals

It may look like the turkey artwork the kids brought home and hung

on the fridge. That’s OK. It’s great camouflage. Trace it down.

Hang it up. The image can act as a labyrinth; a path home to you.

Start with your non-dominant palm face down on a piece of copy


First, in your imagination, trace your palm to the paper.

Next, with a pencil or a pen, trace your hand,  on the paper.

Now, trace the tracing with your finger.

Slide the paper away, and, with the index finger of your dominant

hand, trace your other hand. Breathe loving. Palm up. Palm down.

We’ve heard it said that a person cannot tickle themselves. Try

it. Trace gently.

Partner Portal

Find a partner for a massage of fingers. Take turns. Do the tracing.

Make small talk if you need distraction. Eye contact is optional.

Or pretend you’re looking for a sliver or insect bite. In other

words …  you’re attending one another. Breathing and being. It's


Try palm writing with each other. Alone works, as well, if not

better. Palm writing? Write love into your skin. Write your name.

Love me.


© 2021 David L White



For instance:

“A writer only begins a book. A reader finishes it.” 

– Samuel Johnson

This quotation spoke to me immediately and directly to

any teeny tiny tendency I have towards perfectionism. 

Beyond writers and readers, it certainly includes

artists and entertainers in any genre. It includes your 

favorite quarterback. I rewrote it.

“Creators create. Consumers critique. Free at last. Free at last.”



Using the alphabet soup to sustain myself while I work up …. 

I love you.

That appears to me to be a very fine use of language.


© 2021 David L White

DLW 11/14/21 2:56 PM poem



Micro Tai Chi

One smooth move, Intensely present. 

Who knows? You?

Do tell. What? What? What?

Run the forms later maybe. 

Move now. Love now.


Copyright 2021 David L White 

11/22/2021 Poem



Hobo Daze*

You can safely, find yourself lost,

relax, explore rediscover awe, 

wonder wander, micro momentarily,

simply play the day

If you seem unable to schedule self time, 

then please take a rain check from this 

official sounding fictional holiday as my 

gift to you. Let’s go get disappeared. 

You. I’m already there and back.

Interdimensional Picnic and Parade 

April 12th @ 11 AM

Meeting at the River 

Rain checks honored 

It’ll be good to see you.


Copyright 2021 David L White 

11/23/2021 Poem


Star Seed Blossoms for Thanksgiving

In the valleys of the Slower Branch Ranch

we cultivate compassion, grow hope, germinate joy -

seed, stalk, leaf, and root, bud, blossom, flower, fruit

in digging that dirt and kissing the breeze we watch 

in amazement as the stars seed the fields

here now, me the feeder, you the eater,

it works both ways simultaneously of course, you know, 

I cannot grow it all and I have to eat, too.

We pause in this moment of grace and 

I thank you for your work

here in the dirt


© David L White for Thanksgiving

11/23/17 1:56 - 2:15 am


Crystal, long time friend, I feel like my teddy bear life came home 

from the seamstress. My buttons are tightened, limbs are stitched, 

and my smile glued on straight again.

Thank you for your call today. All my heart, David


Word, as a pill, a placebo perhaps. 

Consume it joyfully. And blow

it out your ass.


(c) 2021 David L White 

11/24/2021 Poem @8:26 AM




I’ve heard of people searching for sea glass 

on the shores of Lake Michigan. As if that could happen. 

Maybe we could call it sand glass. It’s probably the sand 

that does most of the etching anyway. 

And glass? It’s made of sand, anyway.


(c) 2021 David L White 

12/02/2021 Poem



Yes. No. 

Is. Is not. 

Does. Does not. 

Do. Do not. 

Should. Should not. 

Never. Always.

poem Dec. 2021




What is in the cupboard now?

Find what is there.

Later that will change.

We remember.


(c) 2021 David L White 12/2/21 poem


How many ways could things be different?

How many ways could it be exactly as it is?

Let’s start counting. We will make lists. 

Or one … maybe.

You take your body to the doctor and your car to the garage

How often do you kiss yourself, luxuriate, massage?


Dec. 2 2021 poem




You can summon a thesaurus with a Ouija board.

Seems kind of obvious after you figured it out, doesn’t it?



What the heck?

Do you ever have that insurmountable problem that, in retrospect,

you look and say what the heck?

It’s almost embarrassing how obvious and simple it turned out.

I hate to even mention for fear of looking stupid. I don’t think

I’m alone. It’s a comforting thought.



Circus Mindful

Envision Design

Promote Practice Schedule Perform

Trapeze Clowns Tickets Elephant Shit and

¡¡¡ SHOW TIME !!!

(c) 2021 David L White Circus Mindful Poem





And, if you don’t find out until ever is over, 

it’ll still be all right. Promise.

Check with me when ever it’s over. 

I’ll give you your money back.

Keep your receipt.

(c) 2021 David L White Poem 12/13/21



Tropical Lockdown

The tropical lockdown has encouraged me to excavate the underneath

of nearly everything while I am aware of storm surge flooding.

Get in. Grab on. Get out. How much worth in reclamation and at

what cost?

Or start, restart, somewhat anew fresh perspective

© 2021 David L White 

Poem Sunday, 12/12/2021


I’d like to make lunch in the summer time in the kitchen with you.

In our underwear. One of us might fart. We both will laugh.

Thank God the windows are open.

Poem 12/17/21


Enjoy the cookie

It seems as though much of the talk about manifestation is simply

… talk about manifestation. About the thing. Not quite the thing.

It also seems similar to breathing practices. Sometimes we breathe

intentionally because of all the reasons we breathe intentionally.

And otherwise, when we forget, we are still breathing. And so,

here we are, in all our manifest self-ness. Just like that.

Here. Have a cookie.

Part Two - Enjoy the Cookie

The practice of being where you are, 

and not wishing it were otherwise, 

can be a fun game too.

Copyright 2021 David L White 

Saturday 12/18/21 

Full Moon 5:33 AM



Hang on. Relax.

Why would I want to learn anything any more?

It doesn’t look like conversations get much traction.

If I wish for contentment, a little joy and peace, awe and wonder,

then it is here, at hand, every time I check.

Ah yes, the present moment, here and now, hang on.

Try it someday. Maybe.

Hang on. Relax.


© 2021 David L White 

12/21/21 poem


A photo, like a postcard, to a pen pal. The visceral, visual

”thousand words” and a few words personal.

December 21, 2021 

poem - an idea for my pen pal.


You’ve decided to take time for yourself. Perhaps you’re joining a

drum circle. The anticipation is also good for you. This is all in

advance of the actual drumming. This is in advance of the sound

and physical upper body dance or if they are standing drums and

standing and running. But first you decided to take care of

yourself. A huge component in any healing methodology. 

You. Choose.


12/22/21 poem


Because I said so

You might’ve heard it. You might’ve said it.

Usually it seems to come with a frown. And when we turn it upside

down, it may act like magic, matter-of-factory, acting magically.

Because I said so. Abracadabra.


(c) 2022 David L White 

Early Day Date January Poem


Ride Share Model

Nearing autumn, yet spring is springing with seeds reaching for

the light, tendrils stretching, buds blossom, harvest into soup …


Hawa Arbow is a model, Chicago bound for now and I see none of the

runway stereotypical, nonchalant, aloof, learned way to stay safe

when everyone wants something, I, too, do wish something merely to

be seen

She is looking into, sees into me, notably, and I am not afraid to

be seen so clearly. I actually feel felt; gladly, cared for.

She wished it. We shook on it.

The table is set and we eat these fleeting moments.


© 2021 David L White 

September 17, 2021 poem


Garden of Eden

It’s everything else that the cartoonist Zuleta left out of this

picture that intrigues me.

Here he has drawn all the players, and the ground they stand on, 

and not another thing.

Let’s send them out to the gift shop for a moment to perform and

sign autographs.

While they’re offstage, we’ll take a minute to look at the Garden.

Unnamed. Unmeasured. Unjudged. Perfect.

Contrary to what you may have been told there is no gate,

guarded or otherwise.

Reduce judgement bit by bit; incrementally. Drop your fronds. 

Get invisible.  Lose your self. Move at will.

There must be more to it. No end to possibilities. ‘

Let’s sit awhile and enjoy the beauty.

© 2021 David L White 



An early step in sound healing may be cleaning your environment. 

Reducing toxic audio abusive audio inputs. Turn off the news. 

You heard it before. Or simply reduce. Step-by-step.

Sound healing begins with changing your audible environment.

Word, as a pill, a placebo perhaps. Consume it joyfully.


(c) 2021 David L White 

11/24/2021 Poem @8:26 AM



At love / with me

Sometimes we may say in love.

Since I finally started with me it’s getting easier to be at love

and carry it along with me to share, as if,

as if at love

… © 2021 David L White poem



My gift may be less about the art as a product and more the art as

a process. Let’s look under the hood. I think you can drive this, too.

… Poem 12/28/21



Tunneling the David Range

Exploring, mining, blasting, excavating the overburden, tunneling,

spelunking, hiking, camping, and kayaking, all in the hope of

recovering the long fabled treasure of Generalissimo DahVeed.

Off Road leads me home.

© 2021 David L White poem



I’m venting about invention requiring inventory.

Sometimes I wish I’d been pre-vented 

from asking in the first



© 2021 David L White Poem


Morocco in a coke bottle

I mentioned, to Bob, my imaginary sand visitation ceremony where

celebrants mix the sand they brought into my open urn cremains

Bring some. Take some. Please release me when you feel holier than usual

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and sand in your back pocket

The little bridge over Southwick Creek as it flows into the Bay is

a lovey place … the eastern edge of Edgewater Park, in Williams Bay.

I’ve walked over and back my whole life. Why not now too?

Well, Bob opened up and offered to bring double pinch of Morocco

in a Coke bottle

Sahara, baby. Ain’t that swish?

C 2021 David L White 

12/31/21 Poem



Since I got off road with my driver job and retired the clock in

the calendar have melted a little bit, recipe reminiscent of

Salvador Dali.

I am noting the choreography of my foot fall and trail.

I’m hiking and camping the David Range. Not spelunking. I’m not

kayaking. Just wandering deeper and deeper in. Finding interesting

stuff in the digs. And there are areas where I have opened up

blasting and excavating. Small areas. Exploration. We need to

extract some building material for the legacy house. The alphabet

soup memorial library and test kitchen.

Only recently after all these years, insert years here, did I

discover that VerandaNanda was the gatekeeper in mind reader and

my other imaginary friend, the illustrious Dr. Dave, also

practices in the library. He dissection analyze his words and

phrases. For no good reason. Nothing we can monetize or capitalize

on anyway.

It turns out the library is actually a large without buildings.

But the lodge is built over a Hot Spring that is fed by the

fountain of youth. Quite a deal.

... ...

Consuming Exuberance

Added Zoupa Gusto

Jargon Lingo Salad

Power Full Tasty


© 2021 David L White

Poem 12/31/21

ArtWords Audio

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