The First Amendment
noun
I. Congress shall make no law respecting an
establishment of religion, or prohibiting
the free exercise thereof; or abridging the 
freedom of speech, or of the press; or the
right of the people peaceably to assemble, 
and to petition the Government for a redress
of grievances.

2. Amend   
no
con      sh     ake no     respect
establish       religion,   prohibit       
free exercise                     
free      speech         .         press             
the people           to   assemble,                
the Government     a   dress
of grievance

3. Men  
  o
no respect
religion prohibit
exercise 
     speech
freedom
people assemble
dress
grievance   

4. O
respect
free
people
grieve

rule of knowns

All I seek is sleep. I crave the feeling
of total awareness and alertness in
the morning without the assistance of
the caffeine in my coffee. Yet, there’s
much to be done before sleep can cradle
me in her arms and relieve the tiredness
throughout me. Tomorrow I’ll need a few
tasks already accomplished. Tonight, I’ll
sacrifice sleep to do the laundry, wash
the dishes, and clean the house. I may be
working 9-5, but I feel like I’m working 24/7.

Sun slants slowly down
lighting up our path golden
as we run from dark.

cutting my toenails.
one got lost to the carpet,
never to return. 

Lost in Livermore
Highlander Landscape
Touched By Heaven
Past New Haven
Ahead of Boston
Deeper South the World Opens
The Road Swerves
Unexpectedly
James Brown Plays
Good Bye Greenbriar

Dear Smotherer
It’s been Fun
But
Two Too Many
Gut Punches
Make Noel Cagney a Dough Boy

Steady Still
Zavala Makes a Play for
The Easy Way Out
Stay In
Clock Out

Mentally

Make Money

The Screams in the
Sound proof private theater
Echo in my head,

Anger Lashed
“Take Care of Your People!”
Channeling Tate Lighting Rock of GLN
Fucking Listen
You Negligent Maniacs
They Stand Their Idiotic Ground
Walk to the Water
Tough Shit

Vibes Off

I call My Movie Mom
The Ahl Knowing

Use Your Voice
Pick Your Battles
Tug of War

~

Grier gasps, “We are making
Vertical Video in a
Dead Cinema.”

Formerly a Church
Where something went awry
Townsfolk Keep Quiet

A Mustached Man Comes thru Tuesday
He Asks, “Hey Son, Hey Son,
What are they building? Is the church reopening?” I hope not, his eyes slide
“No,” I hide, “They’re rebuilding the
Movie Theater. They’re building it now.”

Wishful Thinking
In the Town that
Time forgot

Red Whiskers
Wished the
Silver Screens
Would Scream
Again

The Other
Side of the Wind
Calls

The Road Opens

Lost in Livermore
Highlander Landscape
Touched By Heaven
Past New Haven
Ahead of Boston
Deeper South the World Opens
The Road Swerves
Unexpectedly
James Brown Plays
Good Bye Greenbriar

I feel your breath on my lips

As I count each and every cicada

Climbing its way up the trees.

I would normally recoil–

Cower away, and duck and cover  

But I just stare.

They come out of hiding after years.

Looking for their mate,

Wanting to feel love at least once

Before they shrivel up and die.

And my god,

They came to the right place.

 After Robert Frost  

Long I’ve driven along this road in the dark.
I’ve seen headlights coming and not looked away.
I’ve wondered who’s there behind city lights.  

In some lighted houses, children are playing.
I’ve wondered who loves them, who holds their hearts.
No one answers.  No one explains.  I wheel on.  

Moving fast, in the dark, I seem to still time.
The stars are far, their light uninterrupted
by streetlights, by houses, by rain, or by fog.  

I spin forward, no one holding me back
as I move beyond earth, reaching up, reaching out
toward those luminous dots enveloped in black.  

A journey suspended, a time that’s not ending,
as I drive these roads, long and alone, in the dark. 

Beneath an apple tree, a summer’s worth of rotten fruit
returns to the earth, brown skins splitting, spilling
soft flesh for the ground to feast upon, for thirsty roots
to claim, swilling acres of sun-baked broth, tangy
and sweet, while a single worm—thread of pale
electric blue—burrows deep into the last scarlet orb
to fall, writhing its way to the core,
and pushes aside the seeds before
setting to work: Churning through the refuge
on a blind gut, and swallowing each helping
as one does hope—as if a body can hold
any number of seasons.  

I saw my shoulders drop
When your taillights faded
Around the bend, and then
It was all green.

The cicadas were screaming. 
Their cries matched my mine —
A deafening numb, and then
It was all black. 

I woke in the afternoon,
Sweaty and disoriented, 
With sand in my lungs, and then
It was all over. 

Still all I see is you. 
Everywhere, in every thing.
How do I reason with shadows
When there are so many of them
And only one of me?