like the glue I used between
myself and anything.
Loathing the truth that love requires loss.
Set on keeping something sacred.
Just one thing,
just once.
Nothing is sticky
like trying to keep something glued
when all the pieces keep falling apart:
over
and over.
Not one thing is stickier
than getting the glue stuck between
your fingers.
Then you stay stuck.
You can’t fix it anymore either.
Not one thing
stays stuck.
Still sticky
over and over.
My, how time flies
It’s June 1, 2025
I’m 61 years old
I worked the same job for 30 years
I’ve been retired for seven years now
Don’t blink
It will be the Fourth of July
Independence Day
But are we free
Are we moving forward
or
Are we moving backward
Laws fought for
Have been wiped away
With the stroke of a pen
No thought to the cookies that will crumble
Only to the dollars and cents
Reaped by the market players
No thought of the harm or alarm
The only thing that matters
To the one in charge is
He says he’s a winner
and
Everything is great
Only time will tell
Can time go faster?
Writer’s Block with Cough Suppressant
The belly-up stink bug
on my desk reeks
of cilantro.
Little traces of sassafras
crumble over
the carpet leaving this
murder mystery
for my nose
to sniff out.
Not a trace of natural gas
even though the world
contains more orange.
Last night in my dreams,
the closet moved
on its own.
Tiny elephants rolled
purple cylinders
around the living room.
Spiders beamed their
eye shine from the
edge of the TV antenna.
The trio of voices in my chest
decided to wheeze
in harmony,
Your superpower is
writing in
cursive.
It’s not left vs. right
it’s up vs. down
they left with our rights
and put em right in the ground
it’s us vs. them
you ain’t figure that out?
there’s more of us
than them
find out if you fuck around
They’ve never given the same rights
to black and brown
that they’ve given to white
they don’t even want you to say that
out loud
we don’t wanna deal with the evil and spite
that founded
this nation
still drownin
in racists
they tried to say it was post-race
pain we deliver like Postmates
we a buncha killers no Ghostface
no face
no case
lady liberty
goes both ways
and they both go to gettin paid
whichever bag’s bigger
baby you know greed and hate
are our scripture
shit’s been a fixture
to piss on the poor
and piss on the floor
of a better day in store
forever we gotta wage these wars
on anybody that tries to cut into our action
and anybody else we ain’t for
we’re living under a coven of fascists
put a baker’s dozen in the basket
case closed
like hate in souls
got it in spades
on scrolls
have you paid
the toll
for being alive
for seeing the lies
they feed you all the time
It’s not left vs. right
it’s up vs. down
they left with our rights
and put em right in the ground
it’s us vs. them
you ain’t figure that out?
there’s more of us
than them
find out if you fuck around
Daisy-eating man–
Daisy eating man–
Dasily–
No, no, no:
a man-eating Daisy, and
hungry at that.
Do you want to leave the Palace?
Its mansions
and halls full of strangers?
Asters closer to the Ocean,
still real. I stand on their heads.
Still real, time shifts
closer to the ocean, and a spot softens
on Michael’s head. So I lower myself,
slowly, undetected, through stitch-gaps in bone,
flatten myself to squeeze in between the folds,
settle,
cover, uncover, cover,
and uncover our newly combined eyes.
What hides down that hallway?
On the other side of that green marine wall?
It seems like yesterday
or a year ago
since you left the overbearing beat of my heart
I thought I would still feel the lingering hover of your lips
but i can’t seem to recall
how that felt
the way your smile
would light up a room
the way your laugh warmed my stomach
did it?
it’s funny. really.
The way you decided to quit.
Just yesterday,
or maybe last week,
I was asked if I was in love with another
but the truth was,
I couldn’t seem to remember.
On this full moon night you’ve promised to show me
the phosphorescence as it dances upon the chilly waters,
Full in a new way, walking next to you
innocently taking in Nature,
No booze this time, or ever,
what a lovely initiation . . .
You, my friend
ripening into my sensitive, soft spoken lover
Clear and free of the have to’s, the drive to get there first,
You’re soft brown eyed soul says,
“I’ve known you before . . .”
Was it moccasined feet . . . listening to terra cotta beats
as we chanted and danced round the tribal fire?
Now kids, free of family bear trap expectations,
all the snags, should’s and should not’s,
As Mother Nature cradles her two innocents,
whispering,
“Release all the tries, the hard, the have to’s, have fun
on your ribbony path . . .”
Salt air, warm sun,
cool breeze, undone.
Crisp white, blue glass,
fresh fish, warm laughs.
Sun dress, bare feet,
sun kissed, blond bleached.
Blue waves, pink shells,
hot sand, my self.
My heart, my home,
washed away, sea foam.
Bright lights, grey walls,
Nine-to-five swindle.
Soul cries “come home!”
Blue skies, warm sun.
