America loves a cowboy.
Heck I’m obsessed too!
But this may be our fatal flaw.
We are always looking for the Lone Ranger
When what we really need is a good posse.
Or maybe, just maybe,
We need to spend more time in the saloon
Singing ancient ballads
And discussing the merits of our brand
Or how to choose a remuda.
Is the best cowboy the one who points the herd
Or those who flank the herd to keep it together
Or the drag riders who help the stragglers forward?

They’re just streaks in the wood,
old termite paths carved into dead lumber
by long-dead critters.
But as the fire feasts, I am reminded
of Alexandria, watching
hieroglyphs burn.

Just off the trail
A snag full of holes
How many woodpeckers
Have drilled how many times  

Bark beetles scurry
Relentless beak poking
Each loud tap goes deeper
Red headed bird tilts and digs  

Bug eats tree
Bird eats bug
Human observes cavities
Ponders his own fate  

What if I was that bird
What if I was that bug
With camera lowered
Boots crunch leaves and walk away

paint me with all the colours of your passion
stripped of cloth
of thought
of worldly burdens

leave me
primed with kisses
patiently awaiting your first masterful stroke

she lived each moment
          as though wringing every

last drop of moisture
          from a damp towel—

then hung herself out to dry

after Lucille Clifton    

They want me to speak truth
but they want me to speak it
to someone else
and I keep speaking truth
to them.

you’re ready on tuesday

i on monday

you the only vestige left

of my memory

intricacies

of dancing with another person’s rhythms

to make life work

i’m wrung out by tuesday

adrenaline

ATP

only enough

anymore

for a few hours

per week

saved up all week

so i can return email

enough to exist in the world

phone permanently off now

having waited decades for someone to call

but this morning

i can think of

so much

to tell you

by tomorrow

holding all these words

will be fruit rotting

in my hand

this broken society

therapy instead of friendship

people lonely but oblivious

thinking sqiggles on a screen equal love

oxtytocin

community

tribe

whiteness washing over those real things

as usual

coopting the names

to autosub users

there’s a pot calling a kettle…

payment

instead of love

while whores still depopulate

morning streets

handcuffed

i have only you

i a good friend

you a person in an office

with a credit card scanner

we are both cheapened

if there are real friends somewhere

they are not here

    In Mullin v. Doe the US Supreme Court ruled on July 25, 2026 that the                                  administration could rightfully end temporary protections (TPS) for people from              Haiti and Syria.    

This country ignores its origin story.  
        
    Tragic Punitive Standard  

The country proceeds blind, boastful, full of vainglory.                    

    Thousands Powerless Suffer   

Fleeing men and women glimpse a life without fear and pain.                    

    Timeless Prejudiced Situation  

They seek high ground from floods of killing, life in chains.                    

      Now temporary
          Protection pales
                Status strangled.

Sometimes a shrug comes

in the darkest moments

I am not a pessimist

nor a believer in fate

but a certain amount of

embracing what is makes

it easier to take that which

we cannot change