Consumer Reports

the heart bleats like a lamb
calling future
the conscience of prey
knowing that each moment
is borrowed from the next
creating a vacuum
that is mistaken for motion
in one direction
while veritably
matters are coming apart
and falling together
at the same time
and predator is puppet
to the very same
pulled along mirrored lines
of presence and absence
and mover is moved
in stillness to stasis
without hunger



What is the name

of that flower?

It is easier to deny things

that you do not have

a framework of knowledge

or experience

that helps enable understanding

those things

than it is to learn

or examine

what of the deluge

is drinkable?


“Indian” Summer

a turn in the ellipse
set egrets to flight
summer birds retreat
and acorns hail
in a torrent of continuance
around the bend once more
air starts to crisp
there is so much more to ripen
than last year
yet less than ever

Of Plonk and Cruft

sometimes madness has to come out
a long turd extruded down the centerline
of a highway in the middle of nowhere
summoned by the rarefied air
the altitude of mountains
a blinding fog
at the edge of the world
you have pointed to its boundary
it would be time to turn away
but this is impossible

the heart of America
is toxic dead black oozing
down at the bottom
of the Gulf of Mexico
killing everything around it
dragging it back
to the center of the earth
tilt-a-whirls and an
elliptical Ferris Wheel
Because We Can

there is no story being told
a story only exists in the past
this is what is unfolding before you, now
not necessarily making any sense
just bleak and deterministic
a slow motion train wreck
and the more layers that separate you
from the appearance of what may have already occurred
the longer you are able to ignore what will become fate
until you too are its witness