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Mar 2015 · 467
— Dusk —
How bright
my sun shines down
all day

Sustained and savage
with glee
of sun tomorrow

but when evening comes
The shadows grow horns
and the darkness gasps,

and haints
come in like
they own the place

Licking their chops
over my
sleeping head
Jan 2015 · 463
— Donna —
It came as a shock
But not a surprise

That ugly news
And they weren't
even sure
It was accidental

I mean,
Our story had  
Been writ
Submitted

And put on the shelf
A long time before

Vows to others,
That kind of thing

But it was
A good story
All the same

I’m glad we wrote it
But I wish

I could revise
The ending
Jan 2015 · 735
— Gallows —
It’s no field of daisies
This walk up those stairs
Sad banners flapping
This garden of dreams

I can see those assembled
Exchange their quick glances
As the band dies down
And the snickers fade out

They all know what’s coming
They’ve gathered to see
A neck yanked at noon

And this time it’s me
Jan 2015 · 484
— Sprinter —
Look in my window
That’s me in there

With my spine
curled again
over this page

I started a novel,
But ran out of breath

I beat it and cursed it
but finally admitted

I’m a sprinter
(if that)
not a marathon
runner.

So maybe
Just a verse
or two

Because better
a dash
for hearts
or souls

Than a mile
for a
plastic grail
Dec 2014 · 418
— Untitled —
Sheep in the hallway
Coy in the sink

Couldn’t risk sleeping
Not even a wink

Guppies came
and guppies went
in bobbling bubbles
of discontent

This is the stuff
poetry is made of

When your poetic
*** falls off
Dec 2014 · 503
— Chick Flick —
I ruptured myself
like a schmuck
On a movie
Last night

A vapid,
schmaltzy flick
With dashing
Hugh Grant

And Emma Thompson,
Who was crying
From a kind of
Slept-in sadness

That I wanted
To rescue
her from

But I'm sure I
wouldn't get
The accent right

Besides,
the script was
already writ
Nov 2014 · 2.3k
— Pearls —
That certain look
in your eyes
was in my dream
last night

Pearls cascading down
in London
where of course
I’ve never been

Pearls before swine
women and children first
then the rest of it

But it doesn’t matter
does it?
Just a small dream,
if that

Dreams dried and brown
from the middle age sun

Funny how they go
Dreams, I mean

Not pearls
Nov 2014 · 597
— A lesser yawp —
My trembling,
pimpled little
yawp

on its way over
the rooftops,

Was blown by a whim,
bounced off
a gable

and fell into
the backyard
of a preacher

It was spitted,
and brushed
and cooked to a turn

Then served up
with coleslaw
to a chortling
crowd of
the brethren

after a sermon,
of course,
and hymns
and grace

and a chorus
of heartfelt
amens
Nov 2014 · 740
— Empty —
An empty pen
when a verse
comes to mind
is like

you’re heading to church
with a burdened soul
And your car
won’t
start
Nov 2014 · 417
— NYC evening —
Don't try to tell me
Another joke
Nor drown me in
Your sorrow

This bar room
swimming
in neon smoke

And a cowboy
Singing truly

Of the kind
Of love
Only cowboys
Can lose

in the heart
Of the cold cold
city

I just came in
For a quick little beer
A few short
hours ago

But don't
**** me yet
Nor open that door
To the 4 o'clock
Blaze outside

Don't fret about me
I'm sure I'll be fine

Just a gray
stumble down
from the
glamour and glitz

and acclaim
of the
Great White Way
Oct 2014 · 445
--Spoor--
Poetry might
actually be
the actual
spoor of God...
little testaments
Dropped in His wake
as He went about
silently creating,
then moused out later
and claimed
by the
roaring little mice
we now call
poets
Oct 2014 · 642
--Liar--
Nobody likes a liar
Least of all me

And I know the difference

Having been a liar myself
some time back

But now
I'm an honest man

Trust me on that
Oct 2014 · 1.1k
--Unicorn--
Nothing to feed my unicorn
Just odes and chants
And hope

But it stomps and tramps
In vain for faith
At the far end
Of a rope

With ears laid back
And rolling eyes
And skyward pointing tine

Neverland never
Looked so good
But maybe it’s
Just the wine
Oct 2014 · 761
--Lost--
Flattened cardboard boxes
A skateboard but no skate
Pogo stick, no Pogo

And stink of garbage
Under the sun

However did I
Respectable I
Get here after all?

I assure you
Ladies and gentlemen
Of the jury

I had no intent
I swear

To be anywhere
But where I was
Supposed to be

At 10:35 on the
Tuesday in question

I wanted a sandwich
But the cupboard
Was bare

So I settled for
just one beer

Just one beer
And now look

Man found wandering
Lost in plain sight
Oct 2014 · 381
—Dream on—
That swamp over there
Next door to my dream
Where I beat and holler
against these things
that fetter me
like religion

Hear the flap
and chuckle
of scavengers
arriving by the dozen

Come a cool bright wind
And blow this
dreaming
away
Oct 2014 · 646
Tincture
Just a tincture,
An infusion
if you will

Just the essence
of you
And I’ll be ok

Without it,
Bone-deep chill
Oct 2014 · 374
--Stricken--
I was stricken with you
But then I found
That you were stricken too

And I thought all along
it was me, not you
That ached and pined for two

The hard thing for me
Was finding out

Just who,
In fact,
Was who
Oct 2014 · 1.3k
--Bum--
See him make it
Down the street

Ricket legs
And hobbled feet

Him mumbo something
Him jumbo back

R X R
with clacking track

There him go
Past weeds and such

Full of empty
Short of luck
Oct 2014 · 677
Roadhouse Blues
All those others
Standing around

Sardonic smiles
And obsidian eyes

My back bent and breaking
Under the strain

Of Fender Strat
And Blues Deluxe

And a hundred chords,
And riffs and licks

Earlier, the glances,
The nod.
The flirt

And hints at  even
more than that

But in the end
A key to a room

Where the janitor sleeps

Vacuum cleaner
screaming

Against my thin door
Oct 2014 · 346
Touch
Touch or tether
Balanced on a blade
One or the other

You can't have both
And you can't have neither

So pay your money
And take your chance

It's all downhill
From here
Oct 2014 · 696
Drive-through poem
Order at the first window
Pay at the second

See the man
With the rubber nose
Put your poem in a sack

With packets of modifiers
A napkin or two

Just in case of
Leaking ink
Or escape of verb

And a diet stanza
To wash it down
Oct 2014 · 357
Untitled
Sleep came out of its box
And got me

Dragged me half paralyzed
Into dim dank hallways
Of dreaming

Such a pleasant word,
Dreaming

Sometimes it's not
Oct 2014 · 221
Untitled
A speck of rain
Dripping off leaves

But we soldier on anyway
Faces forward
Eyes blinking

Into the rain
Oct 2014 · 266
Just before the nod
Just before the nod
A glimpse of oncoming dream
But no way to stop it

Or dodge it

Or even slow it down
Oct 2014 · 314
Untitled
My quill touches down
And spills my life
in scratches
Sep 2014 · 3.0k
Geometry
And that white hole
Quadrangular in every way
Open to Mexico outside

Perspective, as it will
Makes triangles that
Really aren't there

Maybe it’s like they say,
When my hopeful face asks
¿Que onda?

And the answer is still:

*Ni cuadrada ni redonda
*¿Que onda?* is a common greeting in Mexico. It literally means "What wave?" but is interpreted more like "What's your vibe?" The response, *"Ni cuadrada ni redonda"* means "Neither square nor round," and is said just because it rhymes, just for fun.
Sep 2014 · 300
Untitled
A random nighttime thought,
something you throw up on the web
at three o’clock in the morning, knowing
knowing you should have waited for the gray of dawn
or even longer

But the truth is,
I’ve got a bone to pick.
I can’t remember the details,
but let’s just get on with it
and fill the blanks in later.
I mean, it’s a little much
to demand particulars
at this hour.

In any case,
here’s the beef
Or at least a snapshot
of its hindquarters
as it goes its bovine way,
without so much
as a thought
to the feelings of others.

It’s gone now,
swallowed
by a gulp of moon
and rattle of buck brush.

But I can still see it in there,
peeking out at me,
waiting for me to nod off.

Sardonic smirk of cow
on its skinny white face.
Sep 2014 · 517
Untitled
There it is again
My rampant, purple verse
Just because she dropped
A silken, wanton stanza

Like a maiden would
A handkerchief
At a picnic
Or a ball

No no I say
The others are watching still
And her urgent
breathless whisper

No it’s OK, they’re all asleep
Just quietly
But watch the door

And so we madly
Claw the buttons
Reckless
Off each other’s prose

Touching across
The half-lit void
Of six thousand kilobytes

Or as many black miles
of Atlantic waves
Cresting over
The bones of lovers lost

And as we at last
Lay sweating there,
Spent and lost
and found

A lock of her hair
Loosed by our play
Tumbles suddenly down

To touch the curve
Of her smile

Oh my.

— The End —