Thursday, November 29, 2018


Coming from the wrong side 
Of the tracks, we knew straightaway 
What felt right for us was balancing 
For as long as we could on rails 
We thought would lead us away— 
What sidetracked us was that bright 
Shiny penny that blindsided us 
From the right and led us astray. 

Tuesday, November 27, 2018

Prospective Basket Case #45POTUS

The worst is yet to come scenario 
Runs through the entire thread 
Of his talk and boy how we wish 
He’d hurry up and unravel before
The whole shebang blows up
Under the circumstances, leaving
Us gratefully dead in the head. 

Sunday, November 25, 2018

Mushroom Recognition Scene

---for Joseph Hutchison, who first alerted me 

Heads up--just as you boisterously
Catch sight of something precious, 

In the same moment you are 
Already poised to see others 

Massing underground, jostling 
For a view of you, now nodding 

Just ahead, just above 
The silent downy mosses.

Friday, November 23, 2018

DOA Supply Command Post, 2199

Do you read me? 


of carrion 
after carnage over 
GMO battlefields, 

gigantic live- 
wired radio- 
active trans- 
mogrified crows 



commanding ever so 
increasing demand for 
commodity futures, 


Wednesday, November 21, 2018

If Confucius Were Alive Today

I bet he’d strike us all 
Dumb with something like 
Women with tongues that smart 
Say ‘Men do not need sleep 
At night because they sleep 
Standing up during the day’. 

Monday, November 19, 2018

Suddenly It Dawns On One In Transylvania

One more day.
The grey flaking

Hostel shutters flap open 

In a relentless wind, 
There’s no one

Strong enough to keep 
The dead in. 

Saturday, November 17, 2018

Missive To John Levy In Tucson

Hi, brother— 

Since you asked about Rita 
In your last letter, last I heard 
Your foraging hunchback dwarf 
With the unflagging energy 
And beautiful bouquets 
Of overwhelmingly sweet 
Smelling narcissi who kept 
Coming back to your door 
On her little red bike in 1984 
After you’d already bought four 
Of them and placed one 
In each of your house’s 
Three small rooms plus 
Bringing one to my mother 
As a name day gift is now 
Where her siblings put her— 
In an old folks’ home 
In Kalamata—that’s all 
I know for sure for now,
But thinking back on how 
Fiercely she fought and persevered 
Against the ugliness of people 
Surrounding her, I also like 
To think her new surroundings 
Are chock full of plenty pretty
Flowers like the ones 
You bought from her, too. 

All the best 
From your brother in the boondocks 
Of the southern Peloponnese 

Thursday, November 15, 2018

Autumnal Ritual

Centenarian plane tree 
Waving goodbye 

To golden leaves, black- 
Garbed old woman 

Meticulously sweeping 
House walkway clean. 

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

If The Truth Were Known

You wake up after dreaming 
You’ll be deprived of everything 
In the by and by— 

A sycophant’s somewhere 
In your subconscious 
Telling you not to worry, 

Everything’s a lie. 

Sunday, November 11, 2018

Early Spring Haiku

Bashô stares at fronds 
Shaggy with hoarfrost ringing 
Frozen froggy pond. 

Friday, November 9, 2018

Phaedra And The Depiction Of Artistic Fidelity

In her young artist’s eye, the storm
Clouds are menacing
Frenetic grey and black
Jagged squiggles raining

Down long drawn-out
Swaths of green on
The heads of three purplish-
Red poppies, one of which is

Being caressed by
A long thin penciled right arm
Belonging to a young sun-
Glasses-wearing mop-

Headed red-haired girl holding
In her left hand something
Resembling a leafless tree,
Its ten green limbs radiating

Out from the center, each
Gangly arm dangling one
Black, glob-like fruit--
In other words, a fantastic

Child’s umbrella!—instead of your usual
Plain, black, grownup one, the likes
Of which most of us would more
Than likely mistakenly take it for.

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Pierian Spring Redux

What to do, what to do? 

All around us, simple 
Things so profound 
As water rises, water falls— 

What to do, what to do? 
Keep to the high ground, 
Drink deep, too. 

Monday, November 5, 2018

You Talkin' To Me, Janus?

I’ll tell you this much, love—the more 
We hate others unlike us, the less 
Hate we have for ourselves. 

Saturday, November 3, 2018

Out To Lunch In The Land Of The Free Besieged

a small pale 

red-handled bright 

blue picnic basket 

has been left 

on top 

of a bullet- 

riddled freshly 

painted white wall, 

help yourselves. 

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Never Enough Food For Thought

--for all caregivers, everywhere 

Watching Eleni feeding 
My mother-in-law who doesn’t 
Know where she is, who’s feeding her 
Or what it is she’s eating anymore, I can't help
But wonder at her painstaking patience, 

As she tenderly puts back into that mouth 
That once lulled her to sleep, nourishment 
That keeps wanting to trickle down 
Those spent octogenarian cheeks, much 
Like her mother was wont to do when 

One after another, she found herself 
With six hungry young mouths to feed, 
And where no one ever forgot that 
Never having enough food was always 
More than just a thought. 

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