The Ice Beneath

Dawn tipped ice and snow bunches up
Drifts over and across, freezing in place
Like the way dust finds the sexy curves
Of history eventually finding settlement

Beginning to Fly

The sky is cold winter
Wyoming wind wailing
Nestled in the purple
Choking vacuum of forever

Ready to Burst

Inflation rising
Debt market ballooning
Misinformation proliferating
Covid at a fever pitch.

Song O’ The Willamette

Seek ye sounds and hear the collective bugle calls!
O’ osprey n’ lumbering locomotive bawls
Hear its honking trombone plunger muted feature
Garbled warble like the voice of Charlie Brown’s teacher

Galileo

Like all the famous
astronauts and astronomers
who spent days
peering at the heavens
I’ve stared too long at the stars
orbiting inside your baby blues
to no longer deny that God exists

The Drought of ’22

The body of missing teen found plastered over headlines
Barely mentioned, the lake and its 500 year low waterline

A society that buries itself in fantasy buying virtual land
Will eventually realize that our bodies cannot drink sand

Prosopagnosia

Night and day’s tied faces to the plainly hidden
Double helical wrapped Christmas morning gifts
Opened up like halos when street lamps kick in

Re: Redrum

A carnival of meats
Creaky carousels of subjugation
of the tortured and sentient
Wide eyed and scared
Naked and bleeding
Braised and bruised
Animal corpses splayed
On dinner plates

The Staggering Marionette

If my poems had lips they would hide in your pout like secret honey
A whispered cache of melody dripping away in a sea of awkward noise

Fear Not

Please don’t tell anyone
But I have this secret
I’ve been meaning to tell
You see I am an angel.
Don’t laugh

Born Shy

I live on the wrong glassy frosted frame side
Of a Norman Rockwell doctor visit painting
And the museum security staff roping it off

My Hands…

Grasped thumbs
Cupped breasts
Rattled shakes
Played with dolls
Bounced balls
Jumped rope
Reached for love
Clung to sun

It’s Not All Doom And Gloom

Cops push out addicts
Living under bridges
Then talk them down
From jumping off them
Suicide rates are jumping
But it’s not all bad news
At least the stock market
Reached another high

The Pendulum

As above
So below

As is love
So is hell

As is ritual
So is chaos

As is truth
So is masked

As is beauty
So is plastic

Election Day

Every four years there’s this sporting event
Preceded by campaign promises and vows of roses
We choose our bread, circuses and the president
We mark our ballots while holding our noses

The Insane

I saw Jesus singing today
His salvation shivering
In the cold and the chill
His tent propped across
A rusty, red shopping cart
I feel his fixed, coiled eyes
Like a hypnotizing cobra
Daring me to look his way

Paper Tigers

I keep my paper tigers close to me
Anxiously pacing, dogged and untamed
Like the very last satyr in the world of man
Crumpled wads, all bark and neutered maws
Gilded divertissements that tiptoe around
My real demons and the elephant in my room
Like my fear of getting chained to comfortable
When all I dream about is running as fast as I can