Summer slipped out sometime after midnight;

Left the door open wide.

I couldn’t convince her to stay

No matter how I tried.



Autumn arrives in elegance:

Her own offerings of intimacy;

But my skin still tingles from Summer’s bite,

And all the pleasures she gave to me.

some words
don’t exist

they are phantoms

teasing our
tongues

invading our
souls

spreading through
our veins

making us believe
in them

so we will share
them with others

that is the only
way they

can live
because they

don’t exist as
anything else

never one to believe
Faithfully
since I found out at six
Santa was not real;
Since I loved that
Perfect girl,
With all my heart my soul,
And she didn't know
Me at all.

I'm a sinner,
Our boy's a swimmer;
Pray for us.

I crave to man handle
Lads in our *** scandal;
Pray for us.

My hub's a ******,
Pleads, L'amour toujours;
Pray for us.

We seek your affection,
Count our Sunday collection;
Pray for us.

We drink golden showers,
Are massaged for hours;
Pray for us.

On our private jet,
We ***, drink and fete;
Pray for us.

You don't know squat
Till you Manage a trois;
Pray for us.

We are rich,
And white as hell;
And richer now
That we fell.

Pray for us all.

I lift pens.
(You can never have enough of them)
Funeral Homes leave them lying around. They're the only good thing about Visitations.
Banks tie them down, but there are others, here and there.
There are those who want to take your pens too.
People with petitions are always asking to borrow a pen.
They want my ink and blood.
Be sure you get yours back.
I have a legit fountain pen collection.
Proud of my Parker I got in Oxford years ago,
During a different life that lead to this one.
Biff Loman lifted Mr. Oliver's pen,
After his epiphany.
Just runs in and steals it.
Am I a tragic figure as well?
Are we all playing our parts in
The Death of a Nation.

Did you hear the editors of Commentary and Dissent are getting together to form a new magazine?

It's called Dysentery.