Ears for Fears

No mandates

or prohibitions

No shame no blame

No judicial decision

no rhetoric can

ease the condition

Of people who kill

For a bit of attention.

Oh, So, now you listen?

Fed up being fed into

A perverted system

Drugs or detention in

Preparation for prison,

Scheduled to the minute,

But something’s missing:

Is anybody listening?

The way to stop people

Is before the decision

That life doesn’t matter.

Is it really worth living

Without the respect

we all fully deserve?

Before the trucks swerve

Down crowded streets,

is the drive for community.

Before the need to hurt is

The need to be heard,

And be taken seriously.

The cure in a word: listen.

The End of the World

The veiled one replied,

And who wouldn’t be proud of me?

An atmosphere of polka dots of

Light bent on gravitational waves

Within a vast ineffable folded space

Some degrees north of an asteroid

Belt held her nebulae in place

Beneath a sulfuric acid sky.

There is no weave, no hue devised

What can hide divine form from the mind.

Even the deepest blackest masses

Yield their truth with backstage passes 

All in their own due time.

It’s just a little ways

I said to make the 6:58.

Stopped once along the way by

Stutter steps and heavy breath 

With diesel passing on the left.

Three chums into the boxy whale 

Before I scarce could catch its tail

And mouth agape it kindly waits

To catch me in the baleen seats

Along its windowed flanks

Only to spit me out about 

Twenty-some odd times a week.

Been awake awhile now

While most are still asleep. 

I could regret about everything

But I haven’t got the time.

I’m not the strongest link

The weakest or the richest soil

To grow a crop of human

If you hold on to your pride,

My name is gratitude,

I will remember you.

Hecate’s Corner Cafe

Beside the winged edifice
beneath a half moon carapace
there stands a witch and this
familiar figure made manifest
conjured at the crossroads
dying quietly in earnest
fanned by rings and storied amulets
evocations of the catalyst of curious
concomitance she stirrs the fir perched
claws in a promontory the vista summoner
beckoning the peaceful mumbler
the waking life in a sliver of summer
the terrible price for the weaver
paid in sorrows plaid into ballgowns
and lace curtain awnings encircling
the stalk of the fruit of knowing
foggy saliva on downtown incisors
gravitation distorting the view
on the neon banks played out signage
divine which direction to choose
and the ad hoc rules of dating deities
dance in transcendental melody
sycamore seeds in furry feet
ideas spread religiously
sometimes one of them sticks
and gets carried away
on the undertow of unconsciousness
between virtue and depravity

deposited in the silent sound
playing bear to friendly trees
Plum Yew and Wandering Jew
the forest audience surrounding
axe in hand and suffering stand
the familiar man comes thundering
set about the trunks and boughs
dismembering makes everything
remembering the witch
that which there is no whicher
having seen the clouds from all sides now the hawk descends forever