I tried to think today and couldn't.
First time.
I sat in my chair and waited.
Nothing.

I can't believe evil has won.
But it has.

Catastrophe capitalism,
Unhinged greed,
Psychotic fear of one another,
Violence as both question and answer,
Self above all,
Love shriveled and unwound.

Last time **** went down like this,
It caused a world war.

Where do you think you will be,
When the bomb goes off.

We ate apples until midnight.

Carrie bought a gadget.

It hollows out the core,
While at the same time
Infusing the castrated fruit
With up to 4 ounces of
The liquid of our choice.

*****.

After two apples each,
We lay down side by side.

On the lawn chairs
That were parallel parked at the far end of the screened-in porch.

Turned off all the lights,
And felt sad.
Drunk sad.

I told Carrie I was glad my mother was dead.
I was. I am.

Carrie told me she stole five thousand from her aunt.
The woman who raised her after her mother
Abandoned her,
In a Goodwill stroller
Outside the bakery.
The waft of fresh baked bread is still her favourite smell.

It was all the money she had. The aunt.


How do we atone for all this evil **** we do,
Carrie asked me just before dawn.

We'd smoked a joint.
And the sizzle came quick
The wind died a sudden death,
The trees went hush quiet
And it was if God himself was waiting to hear the answer.

Do the next right thing, I said,
And closed my eyes

The Frozen philosophy, Carrie replied. She smiled.


Carrie put her hands behind her head and
I kissed her.
We teased,
*** or sleep, drunk or ******.
I felt her up a bit.

Eventually our arms padlocked around each other.
Puzzle pieces joined together,
Until the crows objected
And started to bark.

The morning sun slapped us
Adding assault to insult,
The heat had a punch,
The temperature rose straight up and mean.

Finally the hornets
Morning fresh, buzzed out of their nest,
And wigged through the air,
Like tiny drones
And chased us indoors.

the ninth shade
embraces mountain peaks
in the pure clarity of morning

frost clings to sagebrush
in the ascending sunlight
of the third-quarter moon

and as life pauses
to apprehend the spectacle
of a wintry summer morning

my bones feel
the transition of season
as autumn draws near

in the quiet of predawn
a butterfly awakes
and while resting on a twig
she warms her glowing wings
in the gathering light of day

she flits from bloom to blossom
as the sun climbs and falls
she sips from ambrosial pools
of mother nature’s bounty
while the western wind begins

and in the fading afternoon
as i sit in my spot
she finds the zinnia i grow
in the planter by my bench
and we share a moment

i see her and she sees me
and as she gracefully rides the breeze
my thoughts are silenced by her beauty
and as we watch each other
the universe stands still

to look inside
even the most
even-handed among us
and bring light
to the darkest spaces
where the brothers
fear and anger
still reside