Friday, August 29, 2014

Step Lively, Scouts!

As a way out of deep depression, 
They told us to go back 
As far as we could and keep an eye 

Out for any signs of life, any 
Footprints that would tell us something 
Substantial had been here before— 

All we came across was that familiar 
Hollow echo of footsteps dragging 
The depths that kept after us everywhere 

We had to go. 

Monday, August 25, 2014

Eureka! (Or How to Stop Deadly Writer's Block Once and for All)

Stare at a blank piece of paper long enough 
And before you know it, bang!— 

You’ll find your head filled with lead. 

Friday, August 22, 2014

A Poem Should Be (11)

Unlike a Facebook like— 
A not unmoving contra 
Diction in terms— 

There when 
You need it 
And still 

There when 
You don’t. 

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Rising to the Occasion

The sun’s still hiding behind 
The ridge of the mountains 
Waiting for the day to begin 

Something quivering 
Deep inside 
The dark sleeping martyred 

Earth lightly nudges you, 
It’s high time you rose 
To seek salvation, too. 

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Heat Wave

Having a hard time pin 
Pointing what one is? 

You’ll know you’re in 
One when 

Even those cooling 
Beads of sweat 

Round your block 
Head sweat. 

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Paperback Writer at Wits' End

I got this crazy hunch-- 
Stand back from what you’ve been 

Bent over all day, you’ll see 
What’s screwed you up 

Right away. 

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Idyll: Field Mice Out to Pasture

Just when you think 
You’ll never make it through 

Another down day, 
A crepuscular 

Screeching flash of a hoot 
Owl lifting you up and away! 

So no more mooning round 
If you please, plenty 

Of green cheese about 
For the likes of you and me. 

Wednesday, August 6, 2014


Cypress trees take souls--at least 
That’s what my mother-in-law 
Claims as we sit under our tall, 
Twinned ones having breakfast 
Before my wife takes her 
To the doctor for a belated checkup--
Olives give us life, she continues
Besides, I don’t recall seeing any 
Olive trees in cemeteries, do you? 

Saturday, August 2, 2014

Of Things Past

Draw them up as you will you cannot 
Hold on to them as they slip 

Like water through fingers 
Frozen in marble round 

The ring of a well. 

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