Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Inauguration 2017

The glass is half-empty.
The glass is half-full.
So damn the glass.
It's shattered
like bits of confetti
scattered in a alley
where even weeds
barely grow.

We need a new metaphor.
The American dream
has run aground
yet the white whale
never was found.
Just a crazy pile
of fractured fantasies
that beguiled so many
generations like
opiate fiends who tried
to believe a mystic thing.
Sweet promises
made with tears.

Puritans thought that demons
roamed the forests.
Nightmares sneaking from
Primordial darkness
to their dreams.
So they lived with fear
and a need for shadows,
like children hiding
beneath a blanket while
creatures banged around
their beds.

They say all men are equal.
They say all men are free.
So why have we made
so many chains?
Even in the noontime,
we still live within
Plato's Cave.

Principles were the bonds
forged in blood.
Guilt and amnesia became the glue.
Theft and ignorance were threads
to hold the tattered
conflicts in check
with some vague ideal.

But the demons remained,
hiding in the mirror,
lurking by our side,
waiting for that moment
when, like a worn out bulb
the soul goes dim
and fear rushes in.

Sunday, January 01, 2017

The Grasshopper Lies Heavy

The grasshopper lies heavy
Upon a leaf slender green,
In forest unseen.

Monday, October 24, 2016


He was a bigly man
with a pigly grin
and jiggly hands
with a giggly charm
and a rigly plan
for all.

The pigly man
with his bigly stand
got his wiggly gut
all squiggly stuck
about where his
jiggly hands have been.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Lumbering through Bethlehem

Lumbering through Bethlehem
on a Saturday night
where the chilly shadows
of abandoned mills
toll silent like a busted bell
and anything left
was boarded or gone
or turned to pay day scams
and quick title loans and
anything else that scraps
for nickles in pockets
dirty and worn
(for poverty is a business,
like death and disease).

Monday, May 30, 2016

Memory of Music

To remember music
in bits of time.
Rifts and refrains,
a fog of feelings
like a madeleine cake
dipped in tea
swirling with a mix
of distant sorrow,
of fleeting joy,
set to the sonorous
strain of a single cello
in a shadowy room.

Tuesday, April 05, 2016

Oh Fortune

Oh fortune, ever changing
like the moon's ceaseless cycles
mindlessly repeating an
eternal loop to life.
For God plays dice
and shamelessly cheats
with a loaded pair
and He generously bets
on every number of
the roulette wheel,
repeating every time.
Like the moon's endless cycles,
so is fortune ever rising
and in decline.

Sunday, January 31, 2016


When the white blanket
falls through the night
with photographic stillness
in a world turned black
and white with
frozen breath and
freezing tears.
A crystalline glean,
fragile and eternal.
So strangely empty,
strangely serene.