Float
The cosmic river thrives. It pulls you and moves you. It’s within you. It surrounds you. Magnetic zeros unite and pull. Making heroes of the unknowing. Making the poor rich. Making the healthy sick. It does not flinch. It does not know names. It does not know preference. It does not ask to be forgiven. ...
Writing through the Storm
In the height of battle a samurai should be able to compose a poem. Mindfulness. Focused observation. Words forming images, forming a new vision. I am no samurai. I am no warrior. Strong storms have a way of making even gray days seem nice. As the water puddles have collected and the birds begin to ...
The Trigger
I sit here looking at the barrel of my gun. It is the loaded, same commercial rerun. Looping, NOW, only for a limited time. Two shotgun shells genetically loaded. So many pellets they can disperse. Blending into healthy tissue. Turning the good into the worst. Inserting stress, not easily withstood. Both shells are lodged inside ...
M I crooked letter crooked letter I, crooked letter crooked letter I, humpback humpback I
That small town 50 miles south of Jackson. I can see it now. That one road called the Boulevard that went from downtown out to the interstate. I can see the kids in their cars with nothing better to do than to drive up and down that two mile loop. I can see Perkins Hardware. ...
The Collection
This book sits on a coffee table. Handed down, generation to generation. Only one exists As time persists. It tells the story of my life. A collection of poems spilled out As the present turned into past. Written for the future. To be found. To be timeless. To be profound. To be a guide. Written ...
A Sunday Rerun
We are never good enough. We will never measure up. Injecting guilt into life. Injecting fear into wrong or right. For each life choice is being watched. Not just by God on his omnipotent cloud But by the congregation with their soap opera frown. Each year is a repeat of the same old stories. So ...
Graduation
I graduated from building blocks to tic tac toe. I graduated from Tonka Trucks to Lego. I graduated from Ewoks to G.I. Joe. We pass the baton from one generation to another. Degrees earned and Resumes written. Skills acquired and careers gotten. I remember sitting in school thinking about all the nonsense I was ...
Children of the Flame
Hands in soil as we toil. Labor intent on solving hunger and thirst. All spare ground newly found and used to farm. To mend. Roofs turned into nurseries. Muscles tense. Tendons enhanced. Working hard for this, our second chance. Time is transient. One day moves into another amended only by the seasons. All movement set ...
The Cleansing
A sphere rotates Inside energy migrates From the land to the sea. Connecting everything. The stars. The sky. The clouds. The streams. The rivers. The oceans. Morphing together as one. An arm, a leg an eye. Pulled inward and outward. Cleaning the Earth’s blood. The soil. The plants. The water. The animals. The bacteria. The ...
The 100th Monkey
We work our days. We continue to play as Dividends are bundled and traded. Futures bet against and faded. So that we might extract oil from sand To keep the same experiment going, again. Continual growth no longer charted. The population has boomed And we all know there is little room. Peak oil has passed ...
The Removed
Removed. The enemy is a target A bullet is a round. A village is down range. All tools to rearrange ones humanity. To make killing easy. One shot one kill. All soldiers drill drill drill. Removed. As we find photos. Soldiers pissing on bodies. Abusing prisoners, no apology. With ten years of Gitmo. As children ...
CLARITY
I ride with you today with your new strawberry bike. Your legs just right to reach. Your breaking is controlled falling. I wonder about your future. How time features moments. Slices of looks. Memories from photo books. As we hold tight. You are none of this. None of the fear we see. None of the ...
In Unison
Authority is true power. Discipline used to enforce. Nationalism the tower to view collective desire. Left, left, a left right left. Left, left, a left right left. Left, left, a left right left. Left, left, a left right left. At first there is a high. Boots marching in unison. Together towards a goal. Where it ...
The Hunt
Tribes holding tight to tradition. Stone aged warriors hunting boar. Bare chested women preparing for tonight’s feast. Ring nosed and ancient. Skin tight, muscled agents. Singing stories of ghosts and spirits, and the magic of the animals. All speaking unique tongues. Tribes living next to each other. Territory not marked but known. Land connected by ...
HOOAH Resume
SUMMARY U.S. Army infantry. I raised my hand in two thousand two. I signed up to get some. How about you? Four tours in Iraq. One in Afghanistan. I lost friends. I lost my wife. I lost my home. I lost my rights. OBJECTIVE To find employment where my ability to take pain and not ...
Never too close
Too close to it. Too close to it. Too close to it. I want to reflect on the ending of the Iraq War. What the hell did we fight it for? No weapons of mass destruction found. But we did find billions in contracts to stick around. To rebuild what we blew up. To grow ...
Santa Claus is Dead
Santa Claus is dead. He was shot point blank in the head coming down the wrong chimney. The Tooth Fairy’s teeth are rotten. He never flossed after eating. The Easter Bunny was run over crossing the wrong street. Those hard boiled eggs of chance. Colors dipped and dried. The myths we create control us. There ...
The Witness
Glimpse, a foot smaller than your thumb. Look away, she’s crawling then walking some. Grasp, life streaming by. Gasp, she’s talking back without a cry. This whole thing goes by so fast. As the universe expands and contracts. Black holes are engulfing galaxies. Super novas are gamma ray tragedies. Gravity is the glue that binds. ...
While Rome Burns…
Art’s task is to save the soul of mankind, and that anything less is a dithering while Rome burns. … If the artist cannot find the way, then the way cannot be found. ~Terence McKenna
Dear David Foster Wallace
As if this was the last thing I was to do. The last thing to ever see. Staring at this screen. Grasping for words of hope to leave you. To have something to lean on for me In case I wake up tomorrow. Another day, another sorrow. There is technology. There are miracles happening every ...
