P.S T.S

Practical cats and late night rants
older and weary and cannot sleep
spinning and spanning yarns and tales
words leap about like counted sheep
all my rings and all my marrow
fortunes depleted the fall was steep
the ending hollow bitter and borrowed
cast iron bells litter my feet
along with Eliot's last lit cigarette
the rock and proof and that's all you need

Sestina #6

Collaboration with Aytch Rae


Handful of pocket lint can't dent what he owes
Nickeled and dimmed away his dreams, just dandy
Through tricks or trade, try to scrape up some loot
Skim through the streets looking for a new fool
blind and loaded enough to take the wager
leave them in the dirt busted and owing a marker

4 a.m. screams blast away dreams of his grave marker
from birth until death trudge along in line, die and still owe
a pound of flesh. Can't find a war to wage or
another piece to sell to a rich boy flaming dandy
Gutter stutter step, pavement pounding, fool
den of thieves brimming with liars and loot

Plunder the poor, keep for the poorer. This is no ballad for a lute
no more words for the hallway poem scrawled in black marker
significant as cobwebs and dust motes, infamy's fool.
Between what you bleed and what you pay you may still owe
piper paying with sweat and knuckle skin, fine and dandy.
A backstreet devil suckers bet, only you will take the wager.


When the odds aren't even, adds season to the wager
and the reason for the evil, the root, is lust for loot
Red, white, and green, obscene Yankee Doodle Dandy
working to put a foot in casket, starker the grave marker
Hindsight highlights chains of choices, reaping what you owe
what you no, what you know and who you try to fool

Gold shackles and raised hackles, pity the fool
dancing for his daily dollar salt mine boogie and wager
Sweat and shame and debt and blame the only things he owns
secret and steadfast held close precious pirate loot
Re-walk weary steps X is the spot marker
darker than an Alaskan noon in winter, just dandy

The burnt-out ends of smoky days, a scuffed and sullied dandy
a miffed and muddied loser hemming hawing trying to fool
his life an allusion, forged and copied to make his mark or
erase it all. The devil's calling in a marker made on a piss poor wager
on busted knees and broken dreams, lured by loot
cocaine breakfasts pissed away life in the end you'll still owe

Dive-trapped dandy, boxed in by wagers
fool to believe relieved of the loot
he'd escape the marker we all owe.

Who Knew (Sestina 5)

Collaboration with Aytch Rae


Seagulls squabble in squall of seaside rain
Reality-bit, thunder-struck, forehead marked by goose egg
Midmorning mist mingles with mighty horses mane
Shocked to collapse, unable to stand on last leg
Cresting waves wipe away tracks, wash sand rearrange each grain
Couldn't stomach the betrayal, thought he'd had her pegged.

Elementary break up after kickball pegged.
Puddles filled with paper boats he wouldn't be driven in by rain
Inside for lunch, pb and J on crustless whole grain
Kindergarten romance sealed with ring from quarter-bought egg
Playground wedding dance the Hokey Pokey, shake a leg.
Tossed gravel, playground artillery. After recess test capital of Maine.

Now grown, toys forgotten. Only a sly boy's grin remains
glories in morning, can't get enough of Peg.
wrapped in smiles and miles of legs
Cowboy hat and plastic guns, used daddy's belt pretend reins
Sunshine soaked sheets, love-scrambled like breakfast in bed eggs.
Wastes work days at a desk, genuine imitation wood grain

Led his people from war to growers of cattle and grain.
Ruled with righteous hand. Died with long whit mane.
Delirium seeps through pores, fever hot enough to fry an egg.
Plan-making to take the demons down a peg.
Prophecy proclaimed him king. Strength allowed him to reign
Mattress pinned monsters: claw-footed bed legs

Down some wine, soothed by swirling legs
No one left to stand tall. To stand against the grain.
How many years will it take to rebuild from King George's reign
Voices scream slogans. Left and Right. No middle to remain.
put uncertainty away with the booze and hang glass on its peg.
Grating waiting madness, don't chicken-count an egg.

Evil twin so bizarre. Can't believe they shared an egg.
Soul-conjoined, but at life's fork chose different legs
One a square hole, one a round peg.
Sweeping down hillsides muddied silted and grainy
Rivulets grow and rage gather and unite. Become the main
With practiced patience the desert waits for next hard rain

Walking on eggshells, a habit ingrained:
bootleg paranoia picked up from my main
man. Unpegged by tension better ease up on reins.

Sestina 4

Collaboration with Aytch Rae

He knew as he sat red faced, had no business driving in traffic
his hair cut short and combed was all salt and little pepper
thick bifocals heavy on his nose, still buildings and signs seen with a squint.
Shattered around his idling car, the lobby of a hotel.
Trembling hand searches for reverse, wide eyes stare at where the bellboy flew
brick and wood and windshield litter his lap

Yorkie in rubble flecked bow pauses mid-lap
over saucer. Vacuum purrs on high traffic
rug; bellboy no longer griping about his flu.
Chandelier's crystal tears pepper
potted plants. Fallen star scattered hotel.
Shock paints surreal landscape with a squint.

Crooked gap toothed smile and half drunk Popeye squint
He struggled to stagger through another victory lap
Another round of bloody mary's lobby of airport hotel
Kid next to him gets a why don't you go play in traffic
Spit at him, bartender mixes using too much pepper
Another meeting missed due to brown bottle flu

Vicious mammalian hissing scrabbled from the flue
head scrunched to neck he peered up through a squint.
Wife's terror-claws in his shirt, no talk could pep her
up to broom out from cabin chimney's lap
(a ratcatorbat) the sharp-tooth spitting. Damn creature traffic.
Squelch the urge to squeal and let his macho tell.

Three old friends a weekend in Vegas and the best suite in the hotel
Round after round head spinning merry-go-round the night flew
By too fast for memories to catch. Staggering through yellow cab traffic
Heavy lidded red shot eyes fuzzy tongued mirror squint
Emptying pockets more receipts than cash lipstick stain from last lap
Dance. Text message blink shit have to call Pepper.

Bare-foot and bath-robed, without pepper
spray, waiting for ass-face's hotel
departure. Despite the dark, she took another lap
around the block. Once again he flew
off the handle. Eyesight and hindsight both squinting
against the light, she ignored the glares of oncoming traffic.

Pizza Dr. Pepper and movies, those friday nights flew by
Treating his mom's place like a hotel, Mikey that squint ass nerd
Too fat to finish one lap around the track Coach G muttered go play in traffic

4/17/10

Mid afternoon sun
Splashes light across blue field
Bodies bang collide

4/16/10

Pale skin turning pink
Flesh that's been covered for months
Spring is approaching

4/15/10

Early morning sun
Brightens dew covered flowers
Yawning down driveway

4/14/10

Fuzz covered bagels
Egg carton empty in fridge
Stomach still howls

4/13/10

Clackity Clacking
Plastic roof dancing in wind
Fixing winter wear

4/12/10

Puddled rain water
Brittle leaves paper scraps twigs
Gutter choking dam

4/11/10

Dirty woolen sky
Matches dour winter mood
Wind whipping branches

4/10/10

Dual aching ears
curled up child sleeps in my lap
Heart aching for her

4/9/10

Nectarine tree blooms
Each bough ends in pale pink puffs
Morning dew glistens

4/8/10

Jaguars are big cats
They're all Freedom talks about
She's just like her mom

Freedom's Cinquain

Jaguar
Soft sneaky
Running pouncing eating
Jaguar sleeps in here
Cat

4/7/10

Frost covered windshield
Winter refusing to leave
T shirt shiver scrape

4/6/10

Wind slips under door
Dried leaves scatter the concrete
Broom leans in corner

4/5/10

Squirrel's rooftop scamper
Angrily run from tossed rocks
Bulbs need replanted

4/4/10

Spring break has broken
Early morning habits gone
Pen gets forgotten

4/3/10

Lines are the right length
Library has no Basho
The heart is missing

4/2/10

One more pint of beer
Pale bitter whistle wetter
Flags snapping in breeze

4/1/10

Foolish to expect
Spring break without falling flakes
Lawn mower stills sits

3/31/10

Burger fried egg ham
Skip fries have another beer
Patio was closed

Winter

No more than six inches deep
frozen water in the woods
children cautiously slip and step
slide from tree to leafless tree
willing themselves weightless to not
crack thin ice. Laughter and
frosted puffs of breath fill the air
and I wonder as I remember
will my daughter know joys such as these

3/30/10

Indecisive spring
Raindrops then flurries then sun
Moods like a woman

3/29/10

Six in the morning
Can't sleep in no work today
Wait for dawn to break

Sestina #3

Collaboration with Aytch Rae

On a trampoline wreathed in dandelions, Andy,
eleven, leaping between glee and ennui, wouldn't
be opposed to a dose of aging potion. Either way it went
(back to milk-tooth gaps or balding and bearded) he knew
he'd be freed of this pre-teen identity worry.
Over thinking, over emoting, and loathe to be near his folks inside.


A job like that, they had to have a man on the inside
If it wasn't the teller or the guard, it had to be Andy
And with fifty grand missing you might want to worry
You thought he would run. He said he wouldn't.
In the end, you should have trusted the things you knew
not ended up in this cell looking at pictures of places you never went

Just a dog, wondering where his wolf side went;
age has snuffed the hunt and howl inside.
Chop licking, sniffing for a scent he knew
arthritic hips twinge, lies belly sunward waiting, and he
runs paw-twitching quick through fox filled dreams. Wouldn't
be against a juicy bone to worry.

Homeless, the fringe, they fray and they worry
Unraveling fabric of society through the cracks they went
Wills spent whether they should or shouldn't they wouldn't
Flaws in the system no one to assist them they don't go inside
Sleep in bitter cold parks as distant as being camped in the Andes
Outcasted together sun rises on nothing new

On the wall a decapitated gnu
wasn't much of a wildebeest, were he?
Took a chance to run and up the ante
but the shotgun called his bluff and off it went
turned his whole world inside
out. Ended up a trophy when he thought he wouldn't.

Each time it happened, he promised to quit drinking. He wouldn't
But he would slow. Lies to his wife but she knew
The truth. And no matter how many drops he drank to fill an empty inside
There was always the hollow. By the bittered end neither did worry
What was to come. Days spent wonder where years went
Drinking with friends then alone in the end a bottle and he

Done wouldn't be undone, too late to worry
all you knew determined where you went.
Whether my side or inside never stopping to ask, and why

3/28/10

Deep inside buried
Twisted tendons pull at spine
Age is catching up

3/27/10

Lawns are being mowed
Neighborhood buzzes all day
The couch is calling

3/26/10

Staring through the screen
Eyes open brain nodding off
Four hours to go

3/25/10

Why don't you listen
Bath time eat dinner clean up
Raising kids is fun

3/24/10

Everyone's angry
Discordant vocalized hate
How can it be fixed

3/23/10

Shattered and broken
Things we can do to silence
Listen to ripples

3/22/10

There's no turning back
Can't unmake some decisions
The sun will still rise

3/21/10

Piles of oak leaves
Raked ready for paper bags
They can keep waiting

3/20/10

The first day of Spring
Wind blows away any heat
Sun feels good on face

3/19/10

The page fills with words
But story remains untold
Empty picture frame

3/18/10

Little girl in bath
Octopus spills out bubbles
They play for hours

3/17/10

Stacks of books marked used
Unsold wait to be returned
Who reads anymore

3/16/10

White bare two birch trees
Stand lean against shifting wind
Awaiting spring leaves

3/15/10

Today only one
Dandelion in the yard
Tomorrow the war

Not So Fast Stupid Poet Dudes

Collaboration with Aytch Rae


A bowl, water, bits of blue rock and a fish
Ma can I get a dog? No.
Now shut up and take a shower
Change dish dances on a speaker
Plate hits the wall, Turn that shit down!
Johnny sniffed his socks and smoked some pot


Piles of pennies placed in the poker pot
the fat kid Tommy brought was a sweet fish.
After four hands he was down
five bucks; they’d laid out all their slick tricks, he was no
wiser. Perched on a visqueen wrapped speaker
Lily peered over Fat Kid’s shoulder, a green card-shower.


Playoffs are on, screw the baby shower
You’re going, so grab the crock pot
Can I watch on my phone if I mute the speaker?
No, and besides the lil’ smokies, were bringing Swedish fish
Jimmy’s text me scores and you can’t say no
Fine, carry the stuff to the car and I’ll be right down


Tommy asked him to play and he was down
heard Lily might be there, made sure to shower.
Offered her his spot; she smirked out, “No.”
Pinched closed between-button gaps over his pot
belly. A tree house gamble, they used to play Go Fish
and whisper secret messages through tin can speakers.


Hushed crowd waits for the speaker
Lights in the room blink and go down
He thinks of dinner Saki and raw fish
Outside, it’s spring time and a brief shower
Crowd agrees, the country is going to pot
Room full of the party of No.


Fat Kid tried to chat her up, she pulled no
punches. He should play and pay, not speak;
he could flush the swing set days down the pot.
Fat Kid clammed up, kept his head down
what a wuss, this was no baby shower.
She had to scram and go fry other fish.

No one has written down all the stories. The world needs
Needs a speaker who showers down truths
throws them all in a pot and fishes out beautiful lies

3/14/10

Early springtime sun
Lacking strength to warm the earth
still brightens day

3/13/10

Snow blankets the yard
Tulip buds hidden in white
Gone by mid morning

3/12/10

Blanketed thick gray
Sky presses against the earth
Winter won't let go

Sestina

Collaboration with Aytch Rae

At the grease-streaked table, he eyed her over his waffle.
The Jack & strobes had masked her chipped front tooth
now illuminated in the 3 a.m. diner; a post- "Happy Trails" trip.
Her bar-bubbly conversation turned to croaking short and stout
vapors, like a teapot trapped bullfrog. Bus boy punk
smirked at them while hauling syrup smeared dishes to the sink.

She has taken the time to watch her ambitions sink,
so she picks up married men. Enjoys watching them waffle.
Knows the teachers are right when they call her son a punk.
Bored, she eyes the man with the dead gray tooth.
Her eyes reel him, he comes over with a pint of stout.
She sighs. Middle aged middle management on business trip.


The couple at table five was such a trip.
Bussing nervous curls of napkin he saw them sink,
pressed deep into the Naugahyde by stout
pre-regrets. He imagines them later with waffle
marks of cheap pillowcases on their faces, fine-tooth
combing their guilt. Cupid is such a punk.


Things to forget, how he got to prison. Prison. The nightly punking.
He despises the loneliness of his life, the twisted pain filled trip.
It all started when his mother forgot the quarter for his first lost tooth
Clenched jaw silent he returns to the syrup stuck plates filling the sink
Angered by prowling cougars passing him by. He nibbles half eaten waffle
Thinks back to childhood, like Jack Sprat, he would take a wife that's stout.


Chaired in judgement at the front door, stout
bat across his knees, he waits. Even Mom believes he's a punk.
She's out again and he won't let her waffle
if just once she'd stuck around...well, this is her last trip.
His turn to choke up, and feel the slugger sink
in flesh and blood. He'll fight her nail and tooth.


Bits of bone and broken tooth
Wizened weathered witch bent and stout
Feral claws into his flesh begin to sink
Her embered eyes smolder like lit punk.
His mind trapped and tricked, deadly acid trip
Hunger haunted he finishes and feeds on chicken and waffles.


Long-toothed Cupid, tired of being love's punk
tosses sagging diaper and stout bow. He's sick of the trip.
Pours idealism down the sink, heads to Denny's for a midnight waffle.

3/11/10

Sand and blood and death
Tiny Pacific islands
Taken retaken

3/10/10

Dawn breaks earlier
Seasons shifting into place
Soon tulips will bloom

3/9/10

I almost forgot
Ten at night and no poem yet
This will have to do

3/8/10

Flip flops yesterday
Now it's freezing rain and wind
Springtime kinda sucks

3/7/10

Pruning rose bushes
Wearing flip flops wasn't smart
Scratches and tan lines

3/6/10

Writing poetry
Mostly leaves me frustrated
Can't seem to quit though

3/5/10

Pit bull terrier
She's a cute little puppy
Can't take her home though

3/4/10

Rain rain go away
Come again some other day
It's a found Haiku

3/3/10

Thoughtless and plotless
Like a drunk in a crosswalk
The poem meanders

3/2/10

Twenty two ounces
A beer to end the work day
Hop Stoopid this time

3/1/10

Feverish today
Sunlight pours down chill wind blows
I should be outside

2/28/10

Last year's leaves abound
Piles litter patio
Hockey on T.V.

Gettysburg

Too old to be excited
Too young to care
Age of boredom
We spend hours
Walk the grounds
Scour green fields
Brown trails
Scars of the earth
Long healed
Bodies blood gone
Only bits of lead
Reminders of taken lives
Illegal souvenirs

2/27/10

Lunch on Saturday
Cheeseburgers ice cream giggles
High point of my week

2/26/10

Yearly review time
Meets expectations again
Mediocrity

2/25/10

Refreshed but not clean
Freezing late winter rain storm
Wet leaves stick to shoes

2/24/10

February rain
Washing away the grass seed
Do it all again

2/23/10

Bubbles are bursting
Dish soap back yard laughing fit
Racing chasing kids

2/22/10

Two sisters fighting
Toys and tears litter the room
I need more coffee

2/21/10

Spring begins again
Tulips push through thawing ground
Buds soon tun to leaves

2/20/10

Dining with the girls
Nuggets fries and playland slide
Eat before you play

2/19/10

At the local pub
Best place in town for writing
Notebooks and beer mugs

12/18/10

Ideas slip away
Notebook pages remain blank
Make coffee instead

2/17/10

Evangelical
Homosexuality
Antidogmatic

2/16/10

Crisp green folded bills
Pull out some to pay for lunch
Who still uses cash

2/15/10

Aimless as always
Age hasn't brought direction
Wonder where I'll end

2/14/10

Whose idea was this
Stupid ass Valentine's Day
Not buying roses

2/13/10

I need to haiku
Count out all the syllables
Post it on the web

2/12/10

Improvise adapt
Overcome what lies ahead
There is nothing else

2/11/10

Frozen to faces
Snow filled beards and soggy scarves
Winter is angry

2/10/10

Red ripe hangs heavy
Vine to hand to waiting mouth
Juicy seeds stain chin

2/9/10

Black interrupts white
Both sing out strong hold long notes
Eighty eight teeth gleam

2/8/10

Sometimes it's sideways
Agitated and obsessed
Stolen and broken

2/7/10

Underneath the bed
Behind open closet door
Monsters are hiding

2/6/10

Blood drips pricked thumb tip
Push into bulletin board
Useless papers held

2/5/10

Bonded through bloodshed
On South Pacific beach fronts
Never forgetting

2/4/10

Wave rises overhead
Final breath escapes
Death turns retreating

2/3/10

White winged swan floats on
Early morning empty lake
Lifts, flies north alone

2/2/10

Timing of Spring blooms
melting snows moisten hard earth
summer being born