Monday, April 24, 2017

still at port

Passengers gathered around the edge of the ship to watch it depart. Prepared for eight days in the chilly, windy, grey. He found himself a high spot where he could overlook nearly the entire ship.

The weather didn't have him looking forward to this leg of the journey. A few other people gathered on his perch. The Captain's bridge was just below them. All the railings were white and cold to hold onto.

He kept thinking about the woman with the broken arm and black eye.

Around her neck she had a scarf made of green and yellow and white. It seemed to depict plant matter of some kind, like palms or olive branches. The thin layers of the scarf wrapped around her. It gave her a disheveled but cozy appearance. Her id badge barely peaked out from under all that fabric.

The dozen or so people on the perch watched in meditative silence as the gates to the ship were lifted and the engines started to hum. Slowly, the ship parted from the dock.

She had a cast on her right arm and the right side of her face was scratched and bruised. He tried not to stare.

As the boat picked up speed, it started to get cold. People slowly left the perch to find warmth inside.

He tried to imagine what happened to her, or what she might be called.

He suddenly felt homesick.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

the rocks and water and moss

standing - arms stretched out and down
like wings about to embrace a gust of wind -

feet shoulder width apart for stability
on the flatten rocks of a jetty - wet from fog -

as the sun begins to rise above the trees -
lined up like soldiers ready to charge the sea -

waiting to feel something or hear something -
anything - that proves there is more

than rocks and water and moss, but knowing
that there does not need to be anything more -

the rocks and water and moss are amazing.


the best compliment
you can get
is a quiet one

something as soft
as a cat curling up
on your lap

or as temporary
as a half smile
meant only for you

a cabin in the living room

there are three cats
who occupy a house

with two humans
on a little street

with eighteen houses
near a cranberry bog

and one of these cats
has a little cardboard cabin

of which he is
the sole occupant

and this cabin sits
in the living room

of the house on the street
near the bog in the town

and inside the cabin
he plays with a toy

shaped like a carrot
filled with herbs

that make him happy
to be in his cabin alone

Saturday, April 15, 2017

the gosnold scenario

the general sent us

there were reports of pineapples
and palm fronds growing in

and rumors of suspicious glistening
puddles after heavy rain

so we came here to take a look

asking around we discovered
the locals have been harvesting

the foreign produce and selling it
at import prices to local markets

the colors in the puddles
after heavy rain have yet

to been harnessed for wealth

when asked about the puddles
half will tell you they exist

while the other half will deny
the reality of such fantasies

as if reality itself were at stake

we got no where with our investigation
until the scientists got samples

of the unusual fruits and grasses
and we stayed for the rain ourselves

afterwhich half of us saw the
glistening colors, and half of us

denied it completely

Friday, April 14, 2017

first dibs

i'd give you first dibs
on the rare stuff, though

a clandestine transaction -
an exchange between foes -

not of each other, but one
mutual malevolence -

the overlord of emotions -
the suppressive force -

a culture of manipulation
with deep, dug out layers

of deals and arrangements
between people who have nothing

to lose or gain in the clutch
of a fast spinning reality -

sharing stuff for things
and dibs and props, though

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

dead land and no king

disgust stuck
to the roof of your mouth

the sickening churning
chum curdling in your guts

forming gross pain
starvation of the already

strained land we pluck
and pick dry until it bleeds

covered in patches and
quick fixes we give it nothing

to give back but
timid attempts at poison

eking out of surfaces
not designed to function

as weapons against
those who attempt

and fail to create then
to crate the creature

from the keeper without a
cage to escape the clutches

of jaws and claws
of a starving pride

Monday, April 10, 2017

about everything

step ahead one small pace after another one pacing the tempers of those around pacing slowly in a line so long there's no end to be seen while waiting to be filed like prepackaged produce on a ship headed for promise that smells a lot like dirt and oxidation of metals mined by those who went before to dig holes in the ground for dreams to be poured over with concrete and plaster and wood and memories of the places left behind.


panic sets in when a message goes without reply to for too long and without excuses so what to say to make it okay when it's still okay with the original sender but the delayed replier doesn't want the wrong message unspoken to go understood so the reply is "I love you" even though it doesn't make sense to do so then and there but it happened and it's out now.


drink dirty water to ease the horror and tangles of threads of pain in the gut in the center of the dessert laden with purple flowers poison to many but beautiful to all at the lip of every cactus beckoning to be touched and tasted to leave a victim at its trunk so it can drink the blood like a spider through its needles to survive as a human animal tries to survive too with a nearly empty jug and no sense of direction.


side by side project

take a deep deep breath and breathe with me in and out until our heartbeats match as we lie with cheeks touching staring up at the sky watching clouds whisper past and pretend to pay attention to the shapes when all either of us can think about is one another.

Sunday, April 09, 2017

let's call him Doug

a damp day, downtow
a dumpy dodge truck pulls up

to the drive up window
of a dunkin donuts and

asks his dog what he wants:
two dozen donuts to share

with this guy and some dame
down the road.

Saturday, April 08, 2017


it's not about how long it takes to make
twenty four perfect pancakes

you're worth it.

it's not about how uncertain i am
of the color brown

when it comes to butter.

it's not about how heavy or large
the finished thing is

and how it barely fits in the fridge.

it's about how quickly you can finish it
in comparison.

what do we do now?

you try to inhale -
take in the lingering scent

and understand how -
inhale again, breath more

and absorb -
how could she do this

to you - to us -

exhale and count to ten.
let go of the tension

and just forgive him.
or leave. just leave.

let him figure it out.
let him be by himself.

just leave, or forgive?

Tuesday, April 04, 2017

Flappy had the Missing Pieces

i suppose the most obscure fact i know
is who the muffin is and how many

huckleberries there are in each one.
or that one phrase in Norwegian, i know that too.


we underwent an engagement 
an arrangement of intransigent consent 
bent against the garment of better 
judgment, adherent to the absent deterrent 
tormented by the antidote to enlightenment 
by the high percent of dissonant immunity 
misspent gentrification on burnt butter 
and inclement sugar addiction, the human trap  
factors in the intelligence of sentiment 
organized by pigment and taste 
according to incident alignment against 
populist movements and condemned  
counter-movements, perpetuated by 
the affluent and incumbent appointment

Monday, April 03, 2017

Dear Benjamin Franklin

you left the ocean for the sky --
and how do you think
the Navy felt about your exit?
or the vegetarians for that matter?

Sunday, April 02, 2017

an ode to overkill


thick overkill

with chains on

you can hear him

approaching from down the street

he is coming over

to visit you

even though


told him

with emphatic finality

to leave you alone

for the rest of forever

because you didn't

want to


his superhero

boyfriend after all

that happened when he

met that spider fellow and

took off without you

from the party

at ironman's


Saturday, April 01, 2017

no time for ideas and bones

as they approach the horizon, stumbling
they make their way like animals but less noisy

if you can imagine it, like silence you can hear
then there's no time to come up with a solution

except to lay horizontal, and we do it,
we stunted the soldiers' approach

flat like insects under deiseal engine wheels
but not a single bone to break in these bodies

National Poetry Month 2017

hi all,

i will be attempting to follow these 30 writing prompts for National Poetry Month (NaPoMo) 2017: