Fish out of Water

Where you find out when 

The sea is only so 
Deep as the air 

You breathe in. 

In the Long Run

It makes no difference where 
You were going when you were 
Turning left or right 
Or going straight ahead— 

Something tells me 
That was where 
You were going when 
You had no choice but to go 

Short of stopping dead in your tracks, 
Which makes all the difference, 
Should one wish to know. 

Aeolian

of fig leaves under 
limbs swept bare— 

a rotting 

bed the fickle 
wind left 

there. 

Clockwork Universe

He’d sit before the expansive 
Bay window and take in 
The sun rising and setting 
Without fathoming why 

It never failed to move him 
While the sea—in an unceasing 
Undulating pendulum rhythm— 
Rose and fell, as if breathing. 

Alms

“I have come to debase the coinage.” 
—Diogenes of Sinope 


Nobody 

At the crossroad, you know the score— 
What’s about to happen has happened before 

So many times nobody gives 
A plugged nickel anymore.