How many millions are in a trillion?

How many leaves in a forest?

How many souls exist in forever?

How many came before us?

Where is it written?’Where are the answers?

Where is the heavenly Chorus?

When did the Big Bang Beget the beginning?

Is the answer there before us?

What if I told you I knew all along?

What if you held a Thesaurus?

A new interrogative might have an answer

Or perhaps it would simply bore us.

Perhaps I had better ask Morris



Email from a friend


I rode my bike to work again.

I like the winter rye grass

Our roses are starting to bloom again

I left my wife a poem by Walt Whitman on the coffee pot…..

Here is a poem by Kurt Vonnegut that I love


True story, Word of Honor:
Joseph Heller, an important and funny writer
now dead,
and I were at a party given by a billionaire
on Shelter Island.

I said, “Joe, how does it make you feel
to know that our host only yesterday
may have made more money
than your novel ‘Catch-22′
has earned in its entire history?”
And Joe said, “I’ve got something he can never have.”
And I said, “What on earth could that be, Joe?”
And Joe said, “The knowledge that I’ve got enough.”
Not bad! Rest in peace!”




No one wants to be ordinary but everyone follows the crowd.

Uniquity? Popularity?

Those who seek to have their apple turnover over and over must first snatch it from the jaws of those members of The Apple Turnover Club to which they now belong.

Look at ’em go….(who am I talkin’ to?)

And, as for that cherry turnover? They look alike, you know.  They look exactly alike.



It’s not really dancing.

It’s the joy  we share.

It is deep within us, it is always there.

Some call it Love. It is April. It’s Home.

The Gift of Life; we know where it’s from.


We clap. We hum; will it disappear?

Perhaps we lack focus. What now do we hear?

The Sound of Silence?

Are we lonely now?

Yes, for the moment.

The Stillness of Tao.


Harken the rhythm. We’re not apart.

We hum. Yes we do, to the beat of our heart.

We hum with our pulse. Really? We hum.

And then…..

We rise up and dance.


But it isn’t really dancing… not really… is it?





During his 1956 presidential campaign, a woman called out to Adlai Stevenson: “Senator, you have the vote of every thinking person!” Stevenson called back: “That’s not enough, madam, we need a majority!”

FREE STUFF wins., until we run out of FREE STUFF.

Lesson: The Lion will die (and so will the Lion tamer.)

Lesson: The meek shall inherit the earth (or what is left of it.)

Lesson: Who cares about the future; LET’S ROCK.



My shoes don’t match

I said to myself

Observing one black and one brown.

One pointy toe

The other a moc

I noticed as I sat down.

(I remembered a time
In Pershing Square
An orator holding his own
“The end is nigh
Beware my friends
Repent before heading Home”)

(Is he right) I wondered

My shoes don’t match

I’d found them a moment ago

I repented not

(They were warm and snug
I left them on my toes.)

My shoes don’t match

I said to myself

Observing one black and one brown.

One pointed toe

The other a moc

Each slipped over

A woolen sock

The time was passing

Tickety tock

A smile replacing a frown;

I have another pair just like these

And they are my very own.





Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others.Unfold your own myth.” ~ Rumi

BY Lee Broom

Does it matter that I got it right?

Must Eleven rhyme with Heaven?

Why not Seven?

Isn’t it enough that I experienced Love?

Must I care……

That I err?

Or whether?

Or never?

Who is to judge?

When will it stop?

Perhaps if I lock……..

The door.

(I shall permit only speechless animals in my life.)

(I shall nod my head and tap my toes to the changeless rhythm of the many Faces of Fear and then I’ll be able to continue with my studies.)

Will I still be able to experience Love?

I wonder what Rumi would say,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

(What is so Mythterious, Lee.)