Sunday, December 11, 2016

Wintry Vigil


storm door knocking
in face of wind

seaman’s wife, son, daughter 
round table with mutt

under empty chair waiting 
for grace to begin. 


Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Generation of Vipers, Raymond, Washington, circa 1952


Reaping wheat 
Back in the old country, 
Mom was once attacked by a viper 
Whose head she crushed 
Under a rock before 
It could bite her, now had me 
As point man leading us 
Down narrow, overgrown 
Path infested with hard- 
Of-hearing innocent garter snakes, 

To our vegetable patch 
Five hundred yards behind 
The tenement house where 
You could see her crossing 
Herself and me pounding holy
Hell out of a pan so hard 
All unknown and treacherous 
New world devils would sense 
The urgency of the message 
And stay worlds, worlds away. 






Saturday, December 3, 2016

Monday, November 28, 2016

Amelioration of the Sixth Extinction


Dear Dr. Paul E. Annaish, 
Blithe spirit par excellence 

In a world of encroaching 
Darkness, please note 

All of us are dying 
To read 

Your prescription 
On how to stave off 

The demise of what 
A lot of us like 

To call the light— 
But please 

Write your Rx legibly, 
We don’t want to go blindly 

Ignorant into the all- 
Knowing night. 






Saturday, November 26, 2016

Black Friday Sellout


All you white 
Slaves and pimps

Of merchandise 
And other motley

Bags of whatnots,
It's bad

Enough buying 
A lie but 

What if you think 
You’ve got the goods 

On the store when 
The store knows 

You’ve been sold 
Down the river? 


Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Monstrous Issue


Let us learn by heart the bloodline 
Of our descent into hell— 

We are all descended from flesh-
Eating apes armed with bludgeons. 

That should start us off well. 


Sunday, November 20, 2016

Justice of a Disturbing Peace


Before it all comes crashing 
Down on your stiff upper lips, 
Listen up, ladies and gentlemen— 

It’s a case of when the once outspoken, 
Wrongly defamed “rabble” are unable 
To rouse themselves from the rubble

Of the deaf-mute derelicts 
They’ve so wittingly become. 






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