crushing through it
here comes Pruitt

promoting coal
he has no soul

what was protection
is now destruction

a man named Scott
the best we got?

the EPA; now EDA
our Earth, sadly, DOA.

Boat overturns
Immigrant swims
Trauma begins

Risking all for family
A life a little better,
A strange future

In a strange land
Living step by step
A survival dance

Different chance
Risking all
To be safer

I was mid-sentence
of a hazy-crazy
argument with her;
spittle sprayed with
unguarded gesticulations
when a butterfly landed
on my finger that was
slashing toward her.
First, I seethed.
Then, froze and
stopped breathing as
I watched gentle flickering
of her beautiful wings.
Delicate things
What was I splaying?
I didn’t matter anymore.
Just stuff to sort later.

I do the best I can
As an old white man
Privilege not withstanding
I try understanding

The world is bigger than me
. . .
Just another tiny speck
Hoping to do so with respect

: 0

Blogs can slog
As long as they like.

Toot-sweet tweets
at 37 + 100 + three.

Twit a bit with only 3:
Emoticon with me.

; )

There’s an itch that
Can’t be scratched

That’s what you see on me
Face pock-marked red

(Legs worse with this skin curse
A mottled battlefield)

Dead patches picked at
Skin flayed raw

My admission:
A compulsion…

Work the edge with a
Fingernail wedge

REMOVE DEAD SKIN!
Quick dry then dead again

Itch, scritch, pull scab anew
My dark avenue.

Pele's hair falls, tears drop
Seething red rage
Shoots high to sky
Black earth roils

Sign of end times?
History fissures?
50th ****** at 45th?
Or just fiery creation?

I saw from the sky
Dragon’s sulfur breath
Shoot two hundred high from
Black cheeks through cracked teeth

What a time to be on the big island
And witness such destructive creation
True wonder,  true jeopardy
Nature fierce in its orange display

I scratch till blood
An itch that persists
Unresolved issues
Buried below

I try to know;
It whorls, churns
Secrets purple red
Break skin

Red burst bloom
Embarrassing truths
Concealed quickly
Don’t show your cards

I am my own goalie
Sometimes I swat the puck out

Eventually it camels back to me
Because I made that call

Every second base stolen
Every accolade bestowed

I’ve run the games and won or lost
The benefits exceed the cost

Finally, I have an enemy!
No longer fraught for naught;
A nemesis! A right to fight!

****, you Clam-man!
You bivalve bloviator!
Super Slug to the rescue!

Cape, cup, spandex on!
Superslime secreted!
Slugman off!

Faster than a seasonal change…
More powerful then the breath of breeze…
Able to traverse 100 yards in as many days!

Super powers:
Eye stalks pivot independently
*** changes not infrequently

Just you wait, Clam-man
And wait!

And wait!

Friction
Isn’t fiction
It’s great
Things grate
I surmise
To hydrolyze,
A basic strife,
Gives us life.
What seems mystical
Is really chemical.
To life!

I want something
A sirloin steak
A piece of carrot cake

I want more than when
Not who but now how
Something more than then again

A purple drink umbrella
A creature double feature
An itch unscratchable scratched

I want something

My brain
Membrane
Contains

Coltrane
Brisbane
Bi-planes

Mansplaining
Hydroplaning
*******

Guilt explaining
Speaking plainly:

Fruit
Truth
Pie
Lies

Life
Liberty
Pursuit of something

Jazz and ****
What it is

Enjoy the fizz

Did Descartes say
"I’m drunk, I thunk:
Therefore I am’nt, Sam…?
And is that now a can of spam, Ma’am?”?

Here and now and then besides
Later perhaps, sometimes betides
Then once again I hunger for:
Tinted eggs and ham once more.

Come on, comma,
#hashtag, pound for pound
Embedded endash–
WHIPLASH!—EMDASH!

There’s the exclamation!
But the crux of the biscuit:
Zappa’s apostasy
Is the apostrophe

Suave semi-dash-colon-
A change of ideas, but not;
Punctuation as comedy:
And th-that’s all, folks…
Period.


(don’t get me started about the $#%¥!ing little upper right circle degree thingy)

Eye eight Iowa’s spill chicken.
Its' all-moist never rite.
Tern Otto-collection rough.
Lean two spill Youseff;
By egg dictionary.

We are all
Hungry hungry
Hippos

In Buddha’s boat
Staying afloat:safe
For tomorrow

I am going to make mistakes
And probably break things

In my attempt to speak the truth
You will like or unlike me

You might even un-Friend me
REPLY: "Oh! No! Dear me! No!”

It won’t stop my postings
In this pre-apocalyptic world

Peeling the opinion onion
Seems the right thing to do

My body know bullies:
Flames to my limbic brain!
I tense, clench, clutch;
Time and stomach prolapse…

(I'm being bullied;
This makes no sense—
Stay? Run? Respond?
How? Snarky? Politely?)

Retreat seems best.
Breathe, think, relax.
Talk it through with my wife.
Let the F-or-F response flush.

Rhetoric can be a fine-pointed toothpick for
Lifting lint from disagreement
Or a coarse cudgel
Driving points home.

My body knows bullies,
My intellect knows notions.
Trust your body.
Trust your brain.
I do.

Tricky bits, those
I have two of them
Bigger than some of yours

Superfluous on me
But some fun; a
Vestigial giggle

Perky, saggy
Voluptuous or
Removed

Tricky bits, those ****
Used to objectify
And advertise

===================
STANZA REMOVED
STANDARD PRACTICES
KEEPING YOU SAFE
===================

I wish I knew the joy
Of those milky bits
**** for little tots

Every mamma everywhere
Feeds who comes next
Every mamma, every mammal

I believe what I see and
Dread what is left to dream
Fearing the fog between

I am in fact a dinosaur
Clearly what has come before
An optimism fossil

Someday what is actually known
If better than the either other
Will confuse these old bones

Driving
Long way to go
Life is involved

Driving
Responsibly
Life is involved

Driving
Slow the **** down
Life is involved

Driving
Don’t cut in front
Life is involved

Driving  
Cut and then pass
Life is involved

Really?
Three seconds less?
Life should evolve

Mrs. Maisel is
Marvelous!

Set design:
NYC, 1958.

Repurposed speakeasies,
Basement comedy clubs.

Wig, hair makeup:
Yes.

Period props:
Yes.

Costume design:
Fifties fabulousness.

Sound design:
Classic jazz,

50s smaltz,
Faux folk trios

Finger snapping
Beatnik poets: yes.

Acting:
Everyone.

Envelope, please…

And the special acting award for
Above and beyond
Goes to no shlemiel or shlimazel
The Monk with the Funk:

Tony Shalhoub!

(Please do season 2)

my first gun
was a bb gun
it had begun
second was pellet

then at ten, sleek 22
later, louder shotgun
beware clay pigeons!
can’t take memories away

i had to take
a driver‘s test to
be a regular driver
well regulated

ammendment:
background checks
psych evaluations
no weapons of war:
an assault on us all

Darling,

A redeployment
Next week:
Clean-up crew.

After:
Logistics.

And then:
Shore leave!

I'll be with you.

Soon,
My commission
Will be over.

Then,
Our next assignment
Will begin.

When I was thirteen,
I would ride my bike
to the library and
beeline to Sci-Fi

I’d fish out fat books;
a trilogy at least and
have a blast in space
released of all gravity

I’d float in a different place
considering time, consciousness
and race—and human humility.
Rocket-man landed expanded

I’m 87% sure
I’m 97% right
13.2% of the time

I’m rarely wrong
When I’m actually write
Like wright now

I’m probably certain
And certainly resolute
Of probable absolutes

Maybe

Archived sounds of
Modem’s tortured yodeling
Dot Matrix‘s Zzzzzzzzzzzkt; Thwick!
Zzzzzzzzzzzkt; Thwick!

The boop-boop-hoop-boop…
Of another’s busy phone. Or:
"35 cents for the next three minutes”
Chik-fwwwwrick-ka-ching-ing, kik-frwwwwrick-ka-ching

Back further: the
Thwick-bop-bob-bop
Thwick-bop-bob-bop-bop
Of a rotary dial

Further back:
The piercing
Berrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Of the 3am TV test signal

Why stop there?
Cha-clump; Cha-clump, Cha-clump; Cha-clump
Milk bottles rattle
Cream at the top
Milk truck’s come and gone

“I’m out of here”
I scratched scrawled
In the warehouse of a
Fantasy Pool factory

Pre-med dropout
No-dread ***-head
Sure my third decade
Would be elsewhere

Bondo *******:
VW van finally sold
Mustang cross country trek
Then, californicated

Going back there
At the end of my career
Just a visit; I’m still here in
Land of fruits and nuts

Cold-slap reality:
I’m still home right here
From the summer of ’89
More than half to the rest of my life


The clickety-click
of pedaling paused
The sound of ease
of exhale breeze

following gravity’s grade
Sliding flying on asphalt  
I’ll pick up the pace soon
but now, just flow

A poem percolates
Urges unknown rise
Seeking wording
Needing knowing
An idea switch itch

Write right
Purge urge
Woke spoke
Do truth
Be me

Alack!
Taken aback!
It’s a fact, Jack.

Think you’re on track
Then: smack!
It’s a backtrack.

So you go back, Mac
Give yourself some slack
Have a flapjack stack

Carry what you lack
Remove it from the black
And take it back, Zach!

Nope.
Don't want to.
I'm not driving.

It's a week night.
I have to be at work early.
Can we leave at intermission?

Yes; let me think about it.
Yes, I want to see them.
Saturday at six can work.

Well, that was really wonderful!
I know! I'm glad they came.
Thanks for doing it.

With my armor off
Attitudes adjust.
Thankfully.

I live shamelessly
While guilelessly
I know what I did
And did not do

I ask for forgiveness
When necessary
And forge through
The rest of it

Learn from the past
Shape the future
Our presence is present
Make the most of it

Sour milk.

She walks to Three Corners Market. 

An unseen sludge of mud;

a slip, a fall—
PAIN!

Ice helps;
Not enough.
"I'll wait for you in the car"

1 hr. @ Urgent Care.
Tedium at Emergency.
Inconclusive X-Ray.
Cloudy CAT Scan.
Inconclusive.

9 hours later, 1am, sleep.
This morning?
I'm guessing:
PAIN!

I'm off to fill her prescriptions

And get fresh milk.

To floor to bid old boy good night
When I realize I’m paralyzed.
Pain—icy fingers flowing from
Back to calf with ankle rankle.

Second time this summer;
But I claw a chair to summit
And seek deep sleep
For tomorrow’s Dentistry.

Freshteros to Denteros, journey made.
I sit in Throne of Drills;
Cavities filled.
Yet still, a crown is lost!

I’d like to phone the past
First to Jimmy then to Jim and
Let them know it will be all right

I needn’t correct the past
Nurture shaped nature
And I pleasantly accept present

What matters is the is
What time matters is the now
Moving forward is the how

Rain, righteous rain
Happening right now
Drumming the deck
Feeding the ground

Sun king finally sleeps
After summer dryness and heat
Let’s pre-remember winter
The season we re-enter

Beware that which you can never ******
Rabbit through another mirror darkly
Endings repeating, more resetting
Choosing left; or just wrongly
Or sing that song again
Oh! It’s amazing the
Ubik places to go
Take it slow
Which pill?
Free will
 -+-
|  |

Go

Son of no one
Now pater has passed
Mother long gone
Children none

Friends, a few
Fewer those true
Fortunately,
Family remains

I have my life
I have my house,
Critters within
I have my spouse

“I am right here,”
He said, in a Spock-like voice,
Trying to defuse the situation

“Even as you endeavor
To agitate me
By being unpleasant;

I am sorry that you are feeling unwell—
If you need me to assist you in any way,
Please, use your Comm."

Darling,

The battle continues.

Thankfully, my depression
is leashed.
Sometimes a long leash,
Sometimes not.

On leash, it informs me:
I can see clearly now.

Off:

Devastating.

Please, save me from home and our status quo zones
Where my dear and the misanthrope stay
Where sometimes is heard no dispiriting words
But the clouds are still cloudy all day

Home, home is so strange
Where my fear and the forlorn hope lay
Where is often is heard many recurring words
And I need to go outside and play

I don’t have to
I might want to
Then I will do

Inspiration might
Strike
Or not

Door 2B or
Hackneyed allusion
Art collusion

I may, I might
If not, alright
But, yes:

I'm just six of ten;
You had children
Often.

It wasn't 1/10th love
It was all in.
Always.

Grayce Thonberry Floss
You taught us all
Grace.

Thanks!

They spread fast
Across the blue dot
With impact to last
In the end a blot

Planet plagued
Tyrannosaurus
Age through age
The virus are us

Too quiet unnerves me
Distractions are needed;
Sounds of birds chirping
Demanding tabby talking

Too quiet scares me
Only my thoughts
Are they too much
Or not nearly enough?

Too quiet is too much
“Alexa, turn on NPR”
“Alexa play acid jazz“

Microwave
Washing machine
Anything

When one of ten
Cacophony always company
No choice in that matter
Finding comfort in discord

Too quiet
Turns inward
Alone with
Solo voce

Rushing into the roaring twenties
A full century later
Hope we don’t crash

Someone pushed the pendulum
Into a crazy mood swing of
The madness of King Tweet-thing

Mobilize, optimize, centralize
Let’s take it back
After, an amusing anecdote

After the reign of rain
And five years of drought and doubt
The fecund world is green again
With sugar packets growing

Plums aplenty on trees one and two
Cherries and blueberries ripen apace
Late blooming apples
Three varieties, small as olives

Festoon trees one to four
Grapes, clusters of little green B-Bs
Promise wines, jams and galletes
A feast after famine

Best yet, peaches!
Only one last dry year
Now, dozens upon dozens
Fatten in the June sun

Jimmy junior
Doesn’t exist
Might’ve been
Hiccup echo

Purple lump
Passed
Surpassed
Gone