Friday, December 04, 2015


When I was five
I became aware that
December days were played
like a game of moral dice
against an Advent calendar
where each day was marked
with little paper flaps
noting misbehavior
and since Santa was
always keeping lists
like a roly-poly bully
who lurked in winter's
shadowy chill and mist
and I knew that
he could watch me
through the TV set.

Friday, November 06, 2015

Silver Moon

In the shadows
of a silver moon
in a desert land
of caves and cliffs
and saw shaped peaks
sharpened by the
crust hard winds
of a vast salt flat,
bleached pale
like bones,
swept clean and
shrouded in
in a silver haze
above lost silver mines,
beneath a silver moon.

Sunday, July 05, 2015

A Parliament of Owls

Jiggery piggery piggery poo.
Jiggery pokery piggery woo.
Applesauce, so sweat and tart
That went all jiggery too.

A parliament of owls flew in,
A meeting of feathery friends.
Hooting with their eyes wide shut,
They caucused till the night was out,
This parliament of owls.

Rhyme and reason are out of season
And those who think otherwise
Are guilty of treason.
Jiggery piggery piggery woo.

A band of coyotes rocked away.
A band of coyotes on parade.
They eat up ma then chewed on pa
And asked lil' Timmy to give 'em more.

Jiggery piggery piggery poo.
Jiggery wiggly piggery do.
A car of clowns have come to town
In a slap fest for the crown.
Jiggery piggery wiggly woo.

Tuesday, June 02, 2015

Around 3 AM

Around 3 AM in some
midnight of the soul
where distant sirens wail
like banshees at the door
and night burns into
colors like rust
beneath the flickering
vapors of sodium lights
that reduces the moon
to a tin shadow
made small against
the angles of mismatched
roofs until it fades into
the smog of yesterday's
last bad scene.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Sleeping In a West Virginia Field

Mourning doves stir and coo
In early light draped pale
By mist and the dew
Grew thick between our toes.

We had slept that night
In an open field picked blind
After a late night's drive
Through countless hallows
Lit by the fires of ten thousand tires
Burning wildly in a junkyard heap.
A breath of hell like a Bruegel print
As the flames flared tight
To the side of the road.

By noon the huddled hills were
Sweeps of green and hummingbirds
Swooped to a dulcimer lilt
Beneath a leafy canvas,
Beneath a translucent sky.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Jesus On My Toast

I saw Jesus on my toast today,
He just winked and waved.
Asked for butter, extra salty
Then sent me on my way.

Moses was at the crosswalk,
Parting the cars for sport.
Said he needed a new tablet,
With WiFi and every app.

Buddha was in the coffee shop
Dreaming of a creamy latte.
He nodded off quite gently
To dream of sprinkles with
A pinch of spice.