Preface — This piece is an APE — APOETESSAY– the meaning of which, as often described in my writings,

is Autobiographical Poem with Essay. Meaning further, the image of me hanging from The Tree of Life by my own TALE and constant soundings of reality from the beatings of my own writing hands on my own chest. The “A” is further compounded by my own Nom de poiesis as an ‘Apo’kstrophes’– An EGG — hatched as an Earth Grown Gagaian gasping in an Anonymous Cosmosion Poiesion. Most always, the gasp has an APE grasp past the groan. Sometimes, as here, the “groan” is more the beat– that goes on.


In 1953 I wrote of my loneliness as a Soothing Agony —
Soothing–because of such good friends before,
And not too far away, and the sure hope
That more would collegially come my way:
Especially ones for the holding of hands. They did.
I was young then. Now, this time, some sixty-five years later
The loneliness has returned quite — Unsoothingly.
It’s over nine years since Marilyn of our 50 years died;
Some three since DaisyDew of over 17 years was put to sleep.
Furthermore, I live without any colleagues nearby or calling.
And friends living too far away for local companionship.
My three kids are near and busy: their time is spare.
Most of my time is spent alone. Facebook exacerbates!
So much of life “companioned” on iPhone/Internet “devices.”
It’s agonizing at times. I yell! I scream! I vocalize loudly!
Sometimes I sing loudly or soliloquize to all my altarpieces.
Seems no one’s “really” hearing my lonesome-time blues, but ME.
I get emails from here and there– mostly way out there.
I talk a lot to homey photos:  a lot to Mom, Marilyn& DaisyDew.
Fortunately, my Saturn takes me out & about where people are.
I do as I can to keep in touch. A lovely woman smiled at me
The other day in Krogers. It stopped me in my tracks. I melted a bit.
Had she lingered three more seconds, I would have offered my hand.
So, I’m still on the trail of this life’s NEXT and hopeful again
Someone like me is somewhere–soon–and on the same trail…looking………
She’d be soothingly beautiful. Odds are not in my favor, but
In 2018, I’m writing for the first time from my “senior” loneliness.
Could work as before. Even a guy now and then would be good.
Actually, I’m too busy for it to stress me out too much.


I just wish she’d hurry-up. Probably never.
I’m trudgin’ on. Lonesome’s the newest blue-hurdle.
Fortunately, I can still jump. Sometimes…
I just run around it…with my m d o k — my
Manifest Destiny’s Odyssean Kairos.

Post Script — Alas, there’s more reason here than rhyme and merest touches of
melody midst polarities. Bottom-line: loneliness happens — pack-it-in — move on.
Grow with the Groan. Keep putting it in some beat-chest song.