Glare at me all you like,
I won't throw you
the detonation charges.
You'll have to find another way.
I lost sight of things
from the very beginning.
Blindness is such a relative term
though. I can see you,
I just can't see me.
Why? I can't justify.
Bias will fry us
for sure, but at least
it'll be a clean burn
--spiritual and environmentally safe.
Giving up cannot be an option,
so I will soldier on.
Death should be its own reward,
but I always hoped for more...

The prosecution rests, Your Honor.

the flesh
and bones of humanity
   strike the ground

pressed
distressed
   and broken

your brother's
   extinguishing breath
your sister's
   draining blood
there in crushing
   darkness
          
reverberate
   annihilate

vultures/drones circling
   overhead

this is how
heading home
   becomes a crime scene

gravitate to me
enter the flame

breathe deeply
to hold within

what adds color
is life for us

the air we share
a sustenance

Penny, Kaiser Permanente
Diana, Blue Shield
Brenda, UnitedHealthcare

But no longer Karen,
She's now unemployed

I can only throw the ball once

When playing fetch with my dog

Otherwise he gets a complex

Thinking he didn't do it right

The first time

River in search of a sea
imprisoned blood
on the killing spree

sea in want of rivers
cold remorseless wind
gives our wave the shivers

look how high the water rises
see how far removed the sun
so blind now to compromises

we remember songs no more
confronting one's darkness
from the farthest shore

in eclipse the river runs fallow
to light a candle
is to cast a shadow

There once was a lady,
(and there actually still is),
who clandestinely preferred
the growth about her garden gate.

The talk in the village square
these days was all about
pruning the living daylights
out of it, until it was a sad
but smooth barren surface.

Apparently visitors had weighed in
and made this some kind of rule.

Nonetheless, she liked how
the twisting leaves and ivy
created a picturesque latticework,
a natural tapestry,
evoking mystery and anticipation
for what lay beneath.

Oh, she trimmed her foliage
here and there,
keeping the overgrowth
from running wild,
but all things considered
she was not about to change.

Her garden was beautiful
just the way it was.

Above this bubble

Is a hot mess

Cold as ice

Aging faster than light

Pictures from space

By a dying satellite

Reveal an inhospitable system lurking

Like the naked state of the girl next door

It's cute at first glance

But disturbing in every frame after

There is menace in her eyes

Renewed panic over dry throat

They say progress has no patience

What of regression?

Three things to know
Before going on a blind date:

1. The layout of the restaurant and how
many exits it has.

2. Making sure your "surprise" friend has proper directions and is reliable.

3. How to go about filing a restraining order.

Miracle on 34th Street.
So good, she was terrifying.
Unable to cry on cue,
Mother tore a butterfly to pieces,
And she sobbed and sobbed.

Compartmentalized,
Body and spirit broken
By the hours at
Chateau Marmont.

From sweetness
To restlessness.
From academic nods
To drinking in the scenery.
From charmed head shots
To one too many dry martinis.

Gorgeous and gloomy,
"She clings to things with her eyes,"
And naturally was committed.
Her orchestra played
A signature tune:
Splendor in the Grass.

Picture is in the tank
And so is the marriage.
Again.
Furlough is on the brink
And so is the divorce.
Again.

Charting course,
Casting reels,
Dreaming where the boats vanish,
Drowning in a paradox of watercolors.

Who pushed you over the side,
Russian doll?

Pirates of pleasure

In foreign waters

Access to excess

The fingers linger

On a perfect rounded bottom

In a conga line

Lust is a bust

This is no love boat

It's headed for dry dock

As a floating hospital

Swimming the high seas

With some unknown disease

Pencils
  And papers
    And fancy erasers

Rubberbands
  And soda cans
    And ratty old pairs of Vans

This and that
  Or 'maybe' something
    Equaling all sorts of nothing

And then I met Winona Ryder...

If the earth is flat as a pancake,
how come the sun and moon, and pretty much every other celestial body, are round like a Belgium waffle?

If the moon landing is some giant hoax of trick photography,
who did it? and how?
I mean, Industrial Light & Magic didn't get it's start until nearly a decade later!

Come on!

The sound of children suffering from some far off shore in my ear

The tears of first light shed a certain sadness as I listen for a sparse hope

But all that transmits is an echo of fear...

Delayed reaction
Bitterweet one-note transaction
Turn a blind eye
Voice it in a lie
From compulsive catalogs
Gift-wrapped by mythomaniac hands
Mixing false theories
With hour-glass sands
Because everyone can
And everyone will
Believe the scientific rulebook
And how the high heavens, they shook
So long as it looks pretty
And speaks in a foreign accent
Join hands in singing the praises
Calculating our own descent
Passively uninvolved?
Problem solved...

Rose was a Red
Dodgers are blue
We're stealing signs
How 'bout you?

Cheat like this
Not like that
One's okay
The other picked at

Keep to tradition
Not technology
Yeah it's confusing
So is most any ideology

time and again,
her steps
are sprinkled
with rose petals,
well-wishes,
and kisses.

her dress
is elegant
and fair,
yet understated,
so as not
to outdo
the woman of the day.

"affect not
little shifts
and subterfuges
to avoid
the force
of an argument,"
she patiently
holds her breath
for everyone
except herself.

she may
hold the line
with her
precarious walk,
and yet,
"there is always
a prepared place
for a prepared
person."

her very next step
belongs to
no one else,
sprinkled
with song
overflowing
unto her,
as the dawn
breaks within
the fenced walls
of her own heart.

--this is her day.

--this is her time to love.

That does it!
My heart got trashed again.
It's time to get renters insurance.