Somone asked me if you were angry
I lied
saving face
trying to hide what yours couldn’t
the weak smile
the dark eyes
When we take pictures
you sigh
Am I really an inconvenience
is my presence such an annoyance
I swallow my sadness as you roll your eyes
neither of us smile
yet I still post it
O giant moth, where did you go?
Once brought into this bare abode
You flew away onto the wall
And there, two days, did idly stall.
All movement in those days elapsed
Was just your wings once open, clasped.
And then one hour we looked to you
To see you disappeared from view.
Did you fall far to your demise
Or fly free back to the outside?
I guess we’ll never get to know
Where you, o giant moth, did go.
There is a cavalcade of words
lined up behind the ivory sluice gate
patiently waiting to be spoken.
I’m comfortable resting
in the silence, though.
So we sit in the theater
nestled in the soft satin curtains
patiently awaiting the show.
Apprehension thick and choking
like smoke on the casino floor.
The lead actors are not known
for their prompt arrival.
Instead, renowned for the
way they weave words wantonly
debating, betraying, sharpening
accusations against
the whetstone of thoughtful supposition.
The audience watches in rapt attention
preparing rebuttals
footnotes cover the playbill margins.
This play is not a comedy of errors
but a contest of wills.
There are no winners.
Yet, every night, they return rejuvenated
freshly minted pitchforks at the ready
aiming the spotlights
at new loopholes.
the dude that owns the card shop
Poor little doll, strung up
With no place to go, to be.
Hiding in these walls
Cloaked in darkness
No sunlight, for eternity.
His sun, his son—
Come remember
Make haste.
See the truth
The waste
All that is displaced,
The years, always yours.
He who finds this note
Shall note only misery
For this is lost history.
Laugh beside the birds
Hello! So happy to see you!
I think it’s been a year or two.
You’re looking like you did before
I can tell that you feel well, I’m sure.
But, do you suppose I’m getting old?
My hands and arms and toes are cold.
And even though I’m getting fatter,
I find it doesn’t really matter.
Another pain and WHAT’S that smell?
I won’t complain but my ankles swell.
My back hurts in so many places
It’s hard to bend to tie my laces.
And now it seems I’m hard of hearing
And I could lose my teeth, I’m fearing.
My hair has gotten somewhat thinner.
I wonder what I’ll fix for dinner?
I haven’t had a bite to eat
I think I really need a treat.
Goodbye for now. Have you seen my cane?
I really hope that we’ll meet again.
She comes down the ridge
in smoke and ash,
with the wind twisting in her wake.
The preachers clutching their Bibles tight,
daddies drunk on blame and pride –
she’s seen ‘em all,
their crooked looks and lies.
She marked the place where decency died.
She spits and laughs,
a sound like breaking bones.
She set the woods to weepin’ wounds.
She speaks to stars,
and wakes the wolves from winter’s sleep.
She’s what they find when love turns blind,
she’s justice runnin’ with bare feet.
So nail your doors, and bless your kin,
and mind the trees that moan and lean,
for she’s the wrath of all that’s been,
and she don’t care who thinks her mean.
