Comeuppance

A jury could just hurry not to like you.
Just like that.
You’d bet they’d not get you,
But oh they’d get you
Just like that.
It goes without saying but I will mention,
The sentencing would lack prose,
But not punctuation.
Take That! Just like that.
Late & lastly you’d finally serve.
And just like that
Solitary confine-
Ment for you?

Free

Cliff Notes Photo

There’s a cliff someplace
Where the wind’s not too strong, nor too bracing
Where the edge is hardly edgy
Where the drop is in a full bucket
Where the view is–
Where the shot is tight/wide open
We will take it
Where from we stand unsteady and
Search from this perilous perch
for a shot at a sight/wide open.



for Richard Thompson,Richard Melvin, Son Of Man

flying things instinctively know
to dry out their wings, first,
to try out their wings, & go.

surfacing a splendid splash,
surviving a fearful fall and crash,
take time off to dry off &
shake off the surprise of failure.
wake up and walk off what,
and where you are
before you forget to prepare for it
all to dare
the first time, again.

B L O G

jazzing low the box before I go to sleepmode.
letting go.
falling so, near foreigners
for our modern science,
more our freshest poetry.

boardering
the plane
that I said just now has sent us,
led, and just now lent us
home some

pray, tell
There’s a pretty way to spell out
my long sentence.
If random luck holds out perhaps
The power, like lightening
stabbing down my stance,
I’ll light up dark dancing
X rayed in a cartoon.
Man, I’ll be lit up like a mantle
in a lantern soon.
Windfall clarity should scare me.
If I should flinch when I have by chance
An unscrambled avalanche
Doled out again as an hour old
Soulful pillow rain, I’ll miss when
The words come,
Spilling the spaces.
I ain’t nervous of naked undersurfaces.

1 DAWN

The fog fills & fits the branches lit by sunrise,
Cushioning, not drowning out
The birds unbound birdsong.
The mists, on & against objects, their lines
take shape in shifting light.
Like night, the wet air
fades & folds away,
blankets back into my chest.

Stoicism is a prison
Though I break out
Though I break down
Through the pull of a merciful act
Then I’m old and too weak to hold back


I can imagine a troubled
Panicicked angel tangled double;
One cat caught in a grate
A girl unfair in a wheelchair
Nears and dares her balance, her endurance, her tolerance
Strains all of her weight
Shows the pain that she’s used to on her face

Then relief, and they’re both free
She and the cat both refuse to
Cry more,
Like those that might see