On a Sentence by Santayana

Know that

Its essence lies
Not in how

It is delivered,
But how

It is received by the minions
Condemned to repeat it.

Parnassian

You have not yet begun
The assault on the mountain

And already the air is making you giddy.

Look Homeward, Angel

Remember?

When you were good,
He’d let you stay

Up all night
And raise holy hell.

When you were bad,
He’d douse the lights,

Put you under
A dank stairwell.

Thrashing The Idiotic

This picture is worth 871 words.

Goodbye, Old Friend

So long as you can
Keep saying it,

But never forever.

Antediluvian

How utterly deep and profound
A poem

Unplumbed in the shallows
The deluge left behind.

Scent of Nostalgia

 

Unfolding the centifoliate
Rose, all the way

Back to the singular one.