Crossing the deepest river without a boat

Sailing the storm washed open sea in a cardboard box

My brain is climbing hills that only I can see

Each upward step is alive with pain granted and felt

With no medication to stop the fire

None exists unless alcohol laced

And it is such that it curls up from the earth below

While others float past talking

Their voices in pleasure do share and grant comfort

To them sharing the night and the day and the world travels on!

While the sky opens and — but not to me

I sing my songs in a vacuum it would seem

While standing in the dark on a street without a name

My voice claims the night in shyness

Beginning soft, then rising up to touch the branches of trees

While many memories come to haunt and

There I am, I’m crossing a river without a boat

Sailing against the wind in an open cardboard box

I speak to those passing in the deep dark surrounding me

But no one responds, no one hears my sound

No one notices me there in the deepest gloom

For, in truth, I am all alone

Alone in the night, alone with the gift

While the fire rages from the earth below

Coursing up my body with flaming words that no one can see or hear

There is no medication to stop the pain

That comes from sentence forming words swarming in my mind

But how glorious it all is to be alone in the night

While my voice lifts and climbs in song aimed at the stars and the moon

While I’m there crossing the deepest river without a boat in search of you

Climbing mountains that only I can see


Copyright 2018 Gordon Kuhn, The Poet in the Rain.


Listening for Gods word

While I am not a “religious” type, I am a spiritual type. I don’t believe that organized reality is actually reality. I find too many “holes” in it and I have yet to find anyone who could or can return an honest answer to an honest question. That said, an interesting area to read with lots of connections to other bloggers is at:

New followers or those making comments.

Just wanted to take a moment and say thanks for those who have opted to follow or who have commented on my blog. THANK YOU. I appreciate your comments and the fact that you have taken the time to follow me. You are welcome here and I hope that I hear from you.

Poetryfest   visit

Sherry Zendel




Poem Dismantled by Love & Random Thoughts 8.2.17

Dismantled by Love

By Gordon Kuhn Copyright 1/9/2017

She came softly
Easily to his bed was led
And he found himself—suddenly dismantled
Unexpected the world spinning about his head
As if enjoying a first time cup of rich Turkish Coffee
Followed by a sip of mint liqueur that was fed
From the tip of his lover’s tongue warm red
That sought his mouth out amid a smile of rapture deep
To share as did they while the world disappeared forgotten
While within tousled sheets the pair gamboled
And he surrendered to her charms thus, so gently wed.              1/9/2017

The agony of love touches one and all in our lives here. Perhaps that is what God was thinking at the separation of man from the eternal flame and that is what we most seek in a variety of ways. We were once united in a whole framework but chose to be separate and distinct and now we are facing the dissimilarities brought upon by that determination to experience emotions as one single voice. It makes me think of the concept of the Borg. All thoughts together, linked as one, and now  we are separate. Like with the Borg, perhaps in the end resistance is futile, but right now what I want is a cheeseburger and fries. Fries! I cannot find any good fries anymore unless I go to McDonalds. And that is a fact. GK 1327/08.02.17



Catatonic in Milwaukee

Stiffness of mind can be a problem and should be noted to tend along with a great deal of anger. I deal with anger. I have problems with anger. I can be very un-nice with anger when it overtakes me and lately it has been  near me too much. I think it is just that the world is moving at such a strange pace and what I hope for is not actually happening but the reverse is. Maybe that  holds true for you as well. In any case being catatonic would be a problem not only in Milwaukee but in Bradenton  as well.

I wonder if people can really change or is it just backwash that we get when we think we changed and then something happens that drags us back into all the same shit. I don’t know. I just known that when looking at my life I can see too many mistakes.

Its a new day and hopefully a day where anger doesn’t creep in to my life or yours.

Oh, and I have never been in Milwaukee but I understand they brew a very fine beer there.


An Uncomfortable Situation, Dealing with Death.

I find myself once more dealing with death.

The past few years have brought more than one sad occasion into my life. I find with each death that it doesn’t get easier with time. It used not to bother me. It does now.

Being uncomfortable with it at this stage in my life is odd. I never would’ve expected that. I guess it’s because the deaths that have occurred primarily have been among friends of mine, or, in one case, the father of a friend of mine who recently passed.

Suddenly I find my world being rocked by an intrusive factor that neither you nor I have any control over. We all know we cannot escape death. That’s not the issue. It’s the hole that’s left in our lives and those of our friends. It’s holding a friend’s hand and wishing that you can alleviate the pain, or help the survivors, or simply trying to make sense of the situation. It’s talking to a friend who is really unable to respond, leaving the room for a moment, and knowing that as you just stepped into the hallway that the friend died.

There is no more communication.

It’s attempting to help the widow or the widower and not knowing what to say. I think that’s the hardest thing, not knowing what to say to the person who’s dying or to the survivors.

In any case, I find myself now struggling as yet another friend has entered the cycle. He and I don’t get along on some issues. We’ve had some rather blunt conversations. Even so I never would have wished this illness on him.

Two months ago he was fine. Then suddenly he contracted a terminal illness: leukemia. Oh I’m sure that the disease was present and had been present for some time, but it just seems to have suddenly appeared. It’s a fast-moving strain. I’ve seen similar before. I spoke with him tonight. I spoke with him and didn’t know what to say. I spoke with his wife and didn’t know what to say. I phoned another friend and didn’t know what to say. I stared hard into our bathroom mirror tonight and didn’t know what to say to myself.





Micheline Jean Louis

I have a new follower. She surprised me with her Gravatar connection. Many don’t write much on Gravatar but she did. I invite you to read about her and to communicate with her. She seems to be an interesting person who believes, as do I, that we are all one in reality—-we just don’t know it.  Below are links to her writings. I think if you take the time to visit her you will be pleasantly surprised and it will bring a smile to your face as it did mine.

The Beautiful YOU!


No shaded path

At the Gate of the Ghost

I’ve been watching a lot of foreign films lately. Most of them are Oriental. Most of them are Thai. The most recent I finished a bit ago. It has English subtitles, like the rest, but I find that I can watch the film and keep up with the story (unless I fall asleep as I sometimes do). The film was: At the Gate of the Ghost. It is about a murder that is told by three witnesses. One witness is the wife of the slain warlord, the second is a woodcutter, and the third is a shaman speaking for the soul of the slain warlord. The truth is not revealed until the end.

The telling of the story is told in a cave setting. A young monk who left the monastery to go home to find himself and the truth of what life is all about is there along with the woodcutter and another thief. Outside the tunnel a storm is raging and the woodcutter and the monk sought sanctuary in the tunnel only to find the other thief resident there. He pushes for the story to be told. THe monk and the woodcutter have been at the trial of a well-known thief who was then executed for the death of the warlord. However, did the well-known thief actually murder the warlord and was it over his wife or was his wife involved in the murder. Or, did the warlord commit suicide. It is a beautiful story, twisting and turning until the end. There are lessons taught along the way about life and in the end the monk realizes just how little he understood about life and he then returns to the monetary being enlightened by the discoveries made in the telling of the story.

I am one who tends to search and tries to understand about life. I fail so many times in what I do and say. My emotions run away with me at times and I stumble with the inability to make sense of it all.

I recognize the differences in others and I try to not judge. In judging I always return to judge myself for in myself I find greater weaknesses than I see in others. Or, I should say, I sometimes resent what I see in others only to find that what I saw there in someone else is magnified in my own self. If I were to dwell too long on those things I would find myself caught up in a suicidal whirl or drunk. So, what does it all mean? I have no idea. I only know that when I come away from such a story I am ill at ease with myself for I am far less than I would like to be and I don’t understand what or who I am when I had just thought that I did know. I have no idea if any of that makes sense to anyone. I am more confused than before and humbled by the telling of a simple story that ends when the storm outside the tunnel also ends.

The Diary of Commitment Jones

An excerpt from The Diary of Commitment Jones: “My daddy told me that most people don’t have no taste for Road Kill Stew, but I find it is a pleasure to eat. Don’t have to worry about bout going to the store an payin a high price for meat and the shoppin is easy cause route 60 is goin rit past my house…well, almost rit past my house give or take, as daddy says, a cupple of hundred yards. And the meet most times is tenderized from bein run over multiple times. Course you gotta pick the gravel out of it before you cook it unless you want to brake a tooth or somethin. And the nice thing about living next to route 60 is it four lanes so you got plenty of chances for some critter to get whacked. You just gotta get there before the turkey vultures do.”