Tuesday, September 11, 2018


The vastness of the vast,
the vast conspiracy.
As vast as the ocean,
vastness deep.
So vast as to be unseen

Covfefe, covfefe, anon.
From my mouth of madness
I have sprung.
Like Hemingway in Spain,
I am tweeting in vain
while the vast dark sea rolls on.

Collusion, collision
there is no cohesion.
I make up the words
and roll them together
like marbles in the wind.
covfefe, covfefe anon.

Vast is Russia
like the vast conspiracy
and the vastness of all I see.
For I live in a land
of smoke and mirrors
and clouds of witless.
covfefe, covfefe, anon.

Saturday, April 07, 2018


the color of midnight,
its icy stillness
like frozen glass.

the void of night
where shadows prowl.

the misty glim
of dawn's first

Then forgive
your yesterdays,
for we all
have sinned.
They are lessons
for each day.

Sunday, February 04, 2018

Beauty is Gone

Beauty is gone
like a wilted rose.
Truth is lacking
like tattered clothes
and the old equation
is poetic license,
not renewed.

Knowledge is gone,
buried deep in muck
by theory's Babel.
History lies like driftwood
scattered in the sand and
memory barely holds
as the glue dissolves.

Tuesday, November 07, 2017

Safety Notice

Christmas trees
can bite
like a thorny rose,
full of spite.
Hollies are most lovely
and deadly just the same.
Poinsettias will kill
the cat, they say.
The lights can spark
and blow
and tinsel can fly
up your nose.
For the holidays
are deadly, dear,
as you well know.

Monday, August 21, 2017

Tweet Mania

The twit has tweeted
his twittered tweets,
twisty tweets indeed.
Tweets that tittered toward
crazy realms
where twits must tweet
all day.

Friday, May 26, 2017

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time
still opens every dream
like a fairy tale
of things unseen.

If only we could
freely glide
like a butterfly against
the sun lit sky
with colors bright
and bold,
graceful swirls of
golden rays
resisting the daily

They say the impossible
takes a little longer.
So the implausible
should be soon.

Monday, March 20, 2017

A Trip to the Moon

Like flickers of light
in an old Méliès film,
memories spin between
goofiness and wonder.

Like years ago when your plane was late
and I and our son waited by the phone
for numerous updates as a simple
hop from New York became a
logistical feat
and our son was busy watching
a mindless home video show and
discovered the joy of hysterical laughter
from a clip of someone stuck in a toilet
until you called from a
departure gate at LaGuardia
and we left late in the night
on a zig-zag course through
post-industrial waste and debris
framed by a low rising moon
that was large and white
with a crystal shine in a clear dark sky
and we drove straight toward it
like deep space explorers
sailing across the currents of
a celestial sea.

One minor moment
that clings like a precious dream.