Arrayed Amidst The Ruins

Every day standing is a lone 
Miracle in itself, naked lingering 

Vestige of a singular 
Life spent in the passing 

Panoplied columns 
Of so many vain- 

Gloriously fallen. 

You Too Can Buy A Pig In A Poke And Make America Grate Again!

Goose step my foxy ones, 
To Jiggery-Pokery Foundry, 

To found a mine pig, 
Home again, home again, 

Mind gone to crackers 
And pig iron, jiggity-jig! 

Trying To Come To Terms With The Selfish Coward In Me

Love, 
In a word 
I used to think 

You were so 
Overworked it hurt— 
I felt it now 

And then deep 
In this sham heart 
That struggled 

Against uttering 
Your name even 
When blessed 

With loved ones round 
Me and me always 
Ending in shame. 

Exsanguine Coup de Grâce

It’s vital 

The poet get rid of all 
Irrelevant details and get 

To the heart of the matter 
With as little blood 

Shed as possible. 

You Were Meant For Better Things

That’s what well- 

Wishing friends say when 
They see you’ve gone 

Astray and getting closer 
To going over 

The end but isn’t this 
As good as it gets? 

And even if 
It isn’t, please don’t 

Give me that 
Old song 

And dance about 
When

The going gets 
Tough, the tough 

Get going—I’m not 
Going anywhere 

Till you see 
The whites 

Of my eyes rock 
And rolling 

Back in their sockets.