Epitaph For A Morbidly Wannabe Witty Poet

His sense of humor was so 
Dark he couldn’t see 
For the death of him, 
His corpus wasn’t light enough. 

A Poem Should Be (16)

Two things at once— 
Unforgettably well written 

And too good 
To be true. 

Desolation

The mountain trail you chose 
To walk today was once 
Full of the echoes 

Of peasants going back 
And forth from one village 
To the other; by the time 

You finished you’d walked 
Six miles and heard nothing 
Human but the sound 

Of one foot talking 
To the other, both yours 
For the asking. 

Moot Question

All this murderous 
Business of people going about 
Their daily business of killing 
People unlike themselves, 
What power under 
The heavens will rise up 
To wipe this enterprise off 
The face of the earth 
And make it human again? 

Diehard Romantic Getting The Go-Around Once More

“So long, it’s been good to know you.” 


Knowing you, I’m sure you have 
Heard this distressing phrase before— 

Even so, it’s comforting 
To note you’re still able 

To wax poetic while bearing 
News so bad you can’t help 

Dragging your clubbed feet 
Through that same jammed too 

Pedestrian revolving door.