Evening, towards Night

In this mean neighborhood, 

Under the light cast by 

The streetlight opposite 

The derelict house, a lone 

White horse shining, a lamp 

In a vacant lot. 

The Ferryman on Upward Mobility

No matter how hard you tried 

Mate, you’re still here

Being taken down a river 

At low tide— 

So put up your obol and shut up, 

Hold your hands over your eyes,

Enjoy the rest of your ride. 

Love is More Than a Series of Hackneyed Rhymes and Worn-out Clichés

That is 

Only if you save it,

But not for a rainy day— 

Remember 

There’s not a cloud 

In the sky— 

Promise 

You won’t go away. 

Morning Constitutional Amendment, Article One

We the people 

How little we understand 

Of what we see— 

(Flash of insight)—as in 

How did that false dawn get past me? 

Time to stop gallivanting 

And look again 

At what we didn’t see.

Getting Away from the Pressure Cooker

Our breakfast nook

where 

one 

small 

step 

outside our kitchen 

and we’re miles away, 

taking our time 

(fast breaking slowly) 

savoring the start 

of one more day.