Space

Mindless racer, stop 

And think that’s what fills

 

The void in your heart once 

You jettison all that 

 Precious junk orbiting it.

 

 

In Praise Of Timely Poetic Revision

You one of those “vanguard” 

Poets who know where 

Their vehicle’s headed

From the beginning? Time 

To put it in reverse 

Before it backfires 

With you still clutching 

The wheel, your 

Entire production number 

Suspended in midair 

Just over the next scenic hill— 

All you have to do is buckle up 

And wait it out— 

It’ll be over before 

You know it.

 

 

How The World Turns

It could

Care less about your so- 

Called life’s work—the words 

You’ve chosen 

With so much TLC, 

Now hate how 

You tendered them simply 

To show off more 

Than they could ever 

Hope to endure.

 

Incurable Romantic

You believe 

In things far beyond 

Your ability 

To reach them— 

Making whatever you do 

So unbelievably 

Touching.

 

 

Cartesian Dead End

Out sleep- 

Walking, how 

Do we think we’re not 

Dreaming never 

Tells us so.

 

 

If Haiku Is Still "Greek" To You

 

Never utter it—

Barbarians tried their best

And came out tongue-tied.

 

Saint-Exupery's

Twilight captures 

Arachnid's 

No longer ephemeral 

Eyes eying night- 

Flight.

 

 

Bleeding On A Fence

Barbed wire all around-- 

Still the animated 

Heart yearns 

To find itself always 

Rising without a whimper, 

Stopping only when it is well-

Suspended above it.

 

 

Human Time Bomb

Because we know 

Far too little of what 

Makes us tick, zilch 

About who lit the fuse 

Or when it’s going to go 

Off, and too damn much 

To give a shit about it, 

Let alone fan it till 

It tilts 

Our very own belittled 

Known universe, 

We do nothing 

But persevere— 

So magnificently 

It hurts.

 

 

Michaux's Oxymoron

Darkness moves 

In mysterious ways; 

It's a mystery how 

It moves us, too 

Yet how still

It stays.

 

Discordancy

dis 

order 

is 

never 

discovering 

that 

which 

you 

never 

knew

 

 

Bittersweet Breathalyzer

--for William Michaelian 

To take one's breath 

For granted, does this 

Mean business as usual? 

Or must you 

Stop after each one 

And wonder 

If the next time 

You breathe in, 

You're going to 

Find yourself

Out of breath 

Over the limit 

Again.

 

America, My Country 'Tis Of Thee

To be sure, 

Renne Good is not the first 

Poet to be snuffed out 

By evil,

But by looking 

The other way, we 

Make doubly sure 

She won't be the last.

 

 

Calling All MAGA Boot-Lickers Come Rain Or Shine

Y'all start lickety-split a 

Things-to-do list 

For that top crum- 

Bum of yours and don't

 

Stop even if you run 

Out of saliva

 

For the spit- 

Shine 

That comes after,

Right on time.

 

 

Chorus Of Cicadas

We are here to help you 

Remember together how

 

The wind shapes 

The pines and to hear 

With the approaching 

Twilight, the song

 

Of our longing all ready 

Set to disappear.

 

 

Elusive Illusion

Illustrious as ever 

An unforgettable image is, 

This one was also so 

Riviting it took forever 

To reappear--see us? 

We're still, waiting here.