hard as we try to remember
grinding up mindless banter

green grass, yellow slander

what good is hay to a dead horse,
or a spring dried at its source?*




_ _ __✒
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°

peering out this excuse of a window
a crack, really, into a view less spectacular
barely catching self from tripping over
in this bed-sized atrocity of a room
that costs heaps more than an arm & a leg

oh, and don't venture out that door, today
that job you landed wasn't your first choice
and coffee tastes like something died in it
no, don't step into the street ever again
not for a second rate-life-- scraps for mains

take another look and refocus your lens;
hey, the smoke isn't that big, after all*



_ _ __✒
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•

one moment of life
exquisite pleasure
droned and drugged-up
then, it's on with
sustaining their future....

once her she-spider
majesty is widowed
many, many times over,
a cyclical dance in which
you're out of the picture*




_ _ __✒
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°

inkblot butterflies
frolic and chase each other
therapist's couch melts*




_ _ __✒
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°

unapologetical apologetics:
what is denounced vocally and
many rave as condemnatory
is actually deep conviction being

militantly denied from an
internal admission of culpability
--external bluster of one in grave
delusionally grand denial*




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•

people these days
are our solitary
point of reference

unless we're old enough
to recall 'back in the day'
to compare smoke signals

with mobile signals; well
most of us can't even
speak or 'read' Morse.*



_ _ __✒
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•

The reason for my articulation
is simple and utilitarian-
not to seek perfection,
but to seek ablution.

Perfection is reserved for those
with time to spend and money to burn.
My soul requires much more than these,
its ransom necessitates release:

Expiated expeditiously, in a flurry
of words that scathe my every thought.*




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