Thursday, February 26, 2009


Why am I not surprised?
Contents implode upon ingestion?
May cause Digestive Armageddon?
Was that part of the social contract?
When the wood was stripped of its’ grain,
when whale bone found its’ way to
spear head, when the princess phone
could dial up a cluster bomb,
I stopped asking who you were…

Sunday, February 22, 2009


Well, apparently, Jesus left a few
on the beach, but so did Toucan Sam.
I’ve been tracking them both,
and I’ve got plans, man.
I’ve got plans…

Friday, February 20, 2009


…spoke through many nights.
I found a friend in front of a church.
We were both eyeing the same guitar left
for trash beneath a tree by the street light.
It was fret-less, unstrung, gutted of song.
“Probably full of bed bugs,” you muttered.
We debated the meaning of the night
and then each went our separate ways,
leaving the guitar behind.

Thursday, February 12, 2009


I figure the final edit is up
to committee, that as one hand
clasps, another one cuts,
but I am porous enough to fit
into what’s missing,
to turn an awkward segway
into a great entrance or exit,
depending on what’s asked of me.
I’m the fall guy.
I’m the burnished saint.
I’m 25 minutes of
I’m the tin star and the black hat,
cross-roading at an undisclosed location.
I’m a recipe for disaster, and a discarded
dress for success. My interests include
soft focus close-ups, and a starvation diet
of 20-second sound bites. I’m already
getting word that this is going on a bit long.
I can take a hint…Cue the music…Fade…
Cut away…

Sunday, February 8, 2009


…of this beast is vast, but its' nerve
endings can be stretched to the finest pitch!
You, too, can speak fluent Off-Shore Account
after our 90-second tutorial, you, too, can isolate
the thermal stress points of the melting pot
and predict appropriate economic fever zones
from within. Congratulations! You just made
the best of all possible vacations.
Your windows are shuttered, all mouths
are open, and the vociferous wind is blowing in…

Sunday, February 1, 2009


Are you so lonely on that far shore
that you can’t even answer yourself?
Are you so sure of the shadows
that you can stand up between them
and say you found a channel through?

Is your throat the one tide
that is breaking?
Are you saying what I think
you’re saying, that I’m past
all that, I’m beyond you?