TYPEWRITER (BYOC)

My brother owns a driving range just outside of town.




Flannel hoodie beneath his
Yellow rain slicker, the black
Jeans flashing as his legs
Carry him up the block
He's balding, somewhere
Beyond thinning hair or
Receding hair line, pooling
Into a bald spot.


ripping through his pelt,
Hard plastic pick digging in-
Lifting hair by hair


thumb and forefinger
Bracing black pick for each thrust
Loosen knots and naps


chemical scent clings
On air around bright colors
Hand extended look



chewing gum popping,
Brushing color on so thick-
It takes time to dry



he said he loved me-
Went behind my back again,
Nails drying chatter


nostrils flaring out,
Sounds lots louder than it is-
This breathy snortle



chafed battered looking
Nose running and sniffling-
His snuff continues



worn red rosy nose,
Catch on inhale on the lip-
Ka-choo flashes out



pinching bridge of nose,
Concentration, suppression-
Locked the choo within



ahh don't have napkins,
ahhh need a paper towel-
ahh tissue maybe?



wh-wh-when, wh-what?
Did she say in-anything?
Ih-ih-is she here?



c-c-could it come
D-d-down to us being
Se-secure enough?



cl-cl-clasp her hand
Cl-close your eyes and smell her
T-take a deep breath


Bouncing ball off wall,
Bright lime green orb of reflex,
Soft to palm, spongy



Tease the eye, dine on sensations
Of sight. Red sweat shirt bursting
Out at us, green sweater lulling
The eye, gray sweatshirt slides by
Nearly unnoticed. Stonewashed
Jeans soothing, grayslacks placating.




Midnight blue gives way
To fuschia’s brightening glow,
Perched on town’s skyline



Roughly tossed aside,
Bigger fish to fry
In their eyes, I guess.
Solely, I began to
Take those solitary
Step, back toward the
Singing birds, silent
Streets and cooling air.


Money pictorals,
Plaid button ups, zippered mesh,
Cashmere, white cotton


Eraser dragged over chalkboard,
Etch a Sketch inverted and
Shaken clean, wiped out; all
The crap, the junk, unwanted
Garbage taken away, wiped
Clean and begin again. A
Disappearnce reminiscent
Of an uprooted tree, or an
Uprooted house, loaded onto
A truck, and carted away.


most guts blows hurt less-
Olfactory overload,
Nose mashed and bloodied




Terrified screams rise
With the smoke dust and debris,
Who’s winning the war?



onion breath, tooth rot,
Indigestion bubbling,
Rancid breath leaking



even his hair smells--
His agent orange armpits,
Pungent fuming feet



noxious neck odors,
Seeping upward into heat--
Hazing over eyes



old cheese, stale crackers
Sour pickles and hot fries--
Slimy tongue, dry lips



white drool stain on chin,
Toothpaste smeared into his shirt--
Wearing mismatched shoes,
Hitting on interviewer,
Don't cuss during interview



not a nice guy, he's
A bad guy at cracking jokes--
Coarse man, a rather hard man,
He has a temper,
Is excessively corny
And of course is rude at times



rough, mean spirited
And is always cracking jokes--
Uncontrollably



he's a little weird,
Not domesticated
And impatient



i guess the long lean
Bodies honed on the plain from
Running down a well


worn path funneling
The prey along the way, is
Shaped differently


than the one sculpted
By trips to Frigidaire, but
I, I guess I gave


depressed when I lost
His trail that last time. Is it
This important that


i remain lively
And vibrant even though uh
Large elk has wandered


into the valley,
Now on the run we have turned
Him in toward the


fallen grounds. Where we
Again close in. We had led
It through concerted


effort to where the
Dry sun bleached bones lay of those
Largest elks of lands


freeing the meat from
Bone and the hide from the flesh,
I sometimes wonder



if when the dead end
Arrives, with the elk enclosed
In, surrounded by



those voices chiming
In unison, does the elk
Give up, or does it



fight until the end?
We left offerings for the
Lions, vultures and



jackals of the hills.
His hallucination had
A timetable, the



catch was this shadow
Theater took place in one
Day, the single day



aspect is what made
It truly incredible.
Look into searcher's



eyes and methods to
See how he contrasts well with
The thinker's mind games.



lower cased the place,
Scoping out woman, looking
For the right action.



on the surface you'd
Think he got some, yet in their
Reality his



construction firm leaves
Little time for other things,
So when she makes uh



break for balcony
With her silk robe open, uh
Stiff memories are



behind her, sliding
Comfortably into uh
present, is how I



put it. And a roof
Over our heads, where I'm
From that's a must, uh



musky thought of uh
Tent as our roof for that
Whole week last summer



i was near sad to
See it end. But I don't get
Bogged down in details



the transitions aren't
As mellifluous as once
But the fire in



the perfect day, is
About imaginary
Eager obsessions.



there, the trickle grows,
Its source where it grew stronger
Yet waters did not



merge in our sight,
Only the growing cloister
Of moist rivulets




blossoming out of
Nothing except for dry rock
Merging and rushing



toward horizon.
Sky lightening I looked far
As binoculars



can see, we even
Set up good ole telescope
But I could not see




to destination
Of the mountains sheer cut off
And the many miles




to land not to be
Considered mountainous. Here
We had life, people




stealth like, unbeknownst
To even me, of islands
Far isolated




away somewhere in
The Pacific, living and
Thriving and untouched.




i understand uh
Animal has never known
Escape from this place




the humanity
Has always overcome its
Fearful flight response




by redirecting
Its escape routes, but the beast
We are must eat most




day forever more.
Not completely through and through
Out wholesome, like uh




vitamin D whole
Milk, or those bland late sixties
Syndicate re runs



for in actuality
The elk was to make
A large part of




our diet over uh
Well, the next few days.
I was laying there



exhausted to the bone from
Our harrowing
Swim earlier uh




thinking of the remote uh
Couch and PS2
Made my eyes well up




i rationalize it
Wrestle back untapped
Emotion, I say




aloud, guess I missed it, for
A second there got
Momentarily home sick



to your places
Everyone, lady
Flirtatious is here.


she holds court in
The mirror for hours,
Is it a necessity, or
Is she merely being vain?



livid in their rhythms,
Our only harmony, to
Be floating with melodies
Of the oldies, he could
Not quell thematic images.



got to him, he laid on the horn,
What’s the hold-up mister?
Move that scrap metal aside.


wrinkled button up shirt,
Paint stained blue jeans,
It amounted to an odd
Outfit for a scribbler.


if you don’t talk, then
You can’t possibly talk
Too much, but if you
Don’t talk, then certainly
No one could hear you.


the shopping cart caught
My eye, on the carpet
Upright like that. The
Antenna laid atop like
That, reception improved.


the laconic hum of the
Window mounted air
Condition unit, it
Inspires sleep, if I
Do say so myself.


molecules bouncing,
Moving about chaotically,
Like something is boiling.


one day a driver’s license
Washed up on my beach,
A little further
Down the powdery white sand.


i discover an orange
Prescription medication
Bottle. That day brought up
Memory incalculable.


clothespins began to wash ashore,
A canteen, an air mattress,
A few partially filled but
Capped gallon milk jugs,
A flashlight, a cough syrup

bottle and several tubes
Of insect repellant, I
Could not fathom from where they
Were dr-drifting, but they

remind me of home.
Soon the cravings took over,
Popcorn, granola bars,
Dry breakfast cereals, peanuts,

pretzels, rice cakes, cheese
And cookies, food I
So often took for granted,
Snacks I often overindulged
In. I lacked gear, modern

convenience, it is true I
Thought, I can make great use of
Compass, or a hammer
And nails, of work gloves, or rope,
An axe, a saw, maybe

tweezers for these splinters,
And a tad of muscle ache
Ointment. Sunscreen maybe,
A cold remedy,

some binoculars maybe,
Towels, toilet paper or
How about a cooking stove,
Scissors for this hair.




I have an uncle who runs a batting cage in the city.

As regular as every
Early morning the butcher
Shop receives its daily
Deliveries and its a
Good thing too I tell you,
The workout, the act of
Unloading and transfer.
One breaks a sweat
During the course of it.
I wouldn't make it much
Past noon and Tiny
Arrived at nine,
So the overlap between
The 4 to noon and the
Nine to five covered
The shops responsibilities.
Told me go home,
Get my bearings, deal
With the troubling emotion
And let me know
When you grow up.




Scent of worn leather,
Dirty skin and acrid sweat,
Dirty socks and shoes



Racing gloves steering,
Stiff posture, under firm grip,
Navigating bends.



Explosions, gunshots,
Orders from calm sounding voice,
Daily grind of war



Heavy thunk and man
Jumps and lands on pier.
Clop of loafes receding
On boards of pier.
Brisk wind ruffling cotton
Of button up shirt,
Could clearly hear the
Crisp snap of flags flapping
And seagulls circling overhead.



Dollars, errors, results of bad
Decisions, scars, we pretend
We don't have them, like they
Don't exist. The dollars spent,
The errors forgotten, results
Of bad decisions lived with
And learned from. Scars
Buried beneath newer scars.


Had weird, worn out look,
Etched onto his weary face,
His clothes worse for wear



Nice cast, bringing swing
Overhand and accurate,
Muffled sinker bloop


Cordite over bent,
Sweaty hand gripping rod, hand
Reeling anxiously


Crescent bobbing rod,
Water splashing as a perch
Approaches the net



I just need to clear my mind,
Rest my weary soul for awhile
Cleanse my inner center.
I need to catch my breath,
It's a dead give away,
These labored breaths.
Stoop down, kneel down,
Sit down, whatevered
Just hurry up and
Catch your breath so we can
Keep moving. Look at it
Look, sit down for a moment,
And look at it,
How it's put together,
Accomodating, inviting,
Etc. Then take a moment
To look back at how it
Used to lay; the difference
Is night and day.

Only when I try to
Get ahead or get over,
Do bad things happen


What work would I have
Done had hour been granted?
Twenty fifth hour

Dipped tongue in musky
Pool of sensuality,
Its taste lingers on

Whirling and swirling,
Winds gusting and receding—
Drifting snow packing


Sure this is your wife?
Don’t seem like you know her well.
Where’d you meet again?

You say stacked up top?
Broad backside pretty green eyes?
Is the stride steady?




He was born into the world
He said to no one in particular
As he slid free into an outside reality.
They chose to live on
A boat in the marina.
Slight listing, a lull
And the rocking of the gentle
Craft perched atop these rough seas,
Even churning still here deep
In the marina.




Too many open containers,
Not enough restitution payments...
To channel his abilities...
He would do whatever before
Leaving the job at night,
He became a new crowned
Man in a familiar world.




I suppose that's a positive spin,
but I'd much rather sunny and 77.
The sunglasses had been left at
the hotel as he left hurriedly, at
dinner that evening he found out
the flap which this product produced.
He sold seventy five thousand
pair, in the first week, working
his way steadily upward was the plan.
Heavy legs, stiff necks and sore
backs were part of the job, the
reminders of the sacrifice, of
the divine grace which aloud this
safe journey, to and from the west.




Less salt, it seems to be acting like
a razor, severing thread linking
him to life. The placental matter,
festering in his mind, like afterbirth.

the wary one winced at the
appearance of haggard old man.


sooo the body being a burden
to the spirit, or soul, is true?
I always understood it to be
a medium. Exists? Seeing it?




I want to be able to work
with my hands by day, and
sleep soundly through the night.




shiny metal glinting light,
a dark uniform draining
any reflection from itself;
slow swagger, moseying gait
passes by unannounced, yet
noticed. Does it effect the
pace of the draining ink? Will
it drive the thought eschew?
are the patterns strong enough
to hold together in its wake?




I raked leaves in the yard. He
waited patiently in the lobby,
as I meticulously searched
out those books I wanted.




size of the sandbag matters,
the bigger the bag, the longer
it takes to fill. No, it does
not bother me to assist you
in filling sandbags with which
we will brace the bridge, but
I want to know what I am
working with beforehand. I
wish to be mentally prepared,
in case of press and publicity.




she brought them and handed
me muffins at the door, as a
house warming gift; the next day
I invited her family over for
soft drinks and sandwiches.


he needed to fix that duct
in the living room, he thought,
standing over the nozzle sending
gas into his tank; oh, and pay
up the insurances for this month.


Wash your hands! I say, but
does anyone ever listen?



long ovular table, plenty
of chairs, coffee on the air.
If the rest of this place
is this opulent, working like
a hebrew slave won't bother me.

Wearing down treads while wishing
he had wings, he comes to a realization
that all his life will revolve around
his selection, his choice of campus.



he went for a jog on the trail
with a lantern, thinking well
taken steps could get him there
safely. A series of scattered howls,
open his sleepy eyes wide in
fright and alarm; circling round
he attempts to peer through the
darkness to no avail. The sound,
what was that sound, wild dogs maybe,
there haven't been jackals in these
woods for over two hundred years
but wolves, he felt a rivulet of
sweat drip, then stream down his
spine, wolves had been sighted, as
recently as late last month. He
licks his lips, beginning to slowly
retrace his steps on the lantern lit
path; warmth of home calling.



Z is for zero, as in how many
the were before this Y, is for
year, as in last year was my
best year yet. X is for x-ray,
what would youth do without
one? W, for willowy, thin veiled
young slender parts, perky,
vibrant. V is for verse, it is
versification which keeps ones
step lively. U is for umbrella,
it keeps the wetness off my head.



fertile soil, a circuit breaker,
It flipped over the jet black
Soil, the deeply hued leather of
Her convertible, engine revs.


a handful of other
Reminiscences, and hopefully
Narrowly cleared a few hurdles
Before being framed for the
Infraction and placed in the
Trunk, beneath albums,
Magazines and clothes.



Man’s dark brown leather sandles,
Ably tested leather, rough, worn
Niche later in evening, back bone
Investigating that linen look, at
Four fifteen, where were you, you
Eat early there everyday, or is this
Some out of the blue, I just happen
To be on this side of town today thing.



i got a headache
During the evolution debate
And, well it prompted me
To issue a few
Reflections of my own.



Blinded by the light bulb of a soul,
Icy hot fuse melted in fuse box.
Rousing dead of winter, he sat
Down to write a letter home.



my writing made me seem
Outside myself, beside myself.
Our dream of dualism arrived at,
Next time to be splashing in shallow end.



stannard riding bike,
Tykes in nap time with
A child can do it,
Readily tattooed to his forehead.


Believe they split up outside,
Edging along clapboard buildings.
Leaving they were found to be
Instinctively elusive. Now again
Each official
Vividly analyzed what was his
Everything, in his last town?


Regulars could almost see it,
Earnestly it sat there, sore from
Carrying, blocking the road.
Ebbing along until moving day,
It finally arrives, somehow
Virtuous, that night it left, no longer
Etched in mind as outside the sphere.




all the lush landscape,
You’d swear the hills were
Thick plush green astro turf,
Its as cushy as a pile of hay.



old car brought over
From the new world
Aboard a ship.
Used to sit in there
And talk, soak and drink,
As if it were a sun lounge.



he’s easily distracted,
Often he forgets the
People speaking for him.
To him, the background,
Those things these people
Are impose upon.
Appear more interesting.


and if I want
Him focused on
Those things going
On beyond the people,
He becomes obsessed
With the foreground;
It’s really quite confusing.


they say his pop is
The same way, I like
To believe he
Inherited this
Trait from his father.
It being genetic
Means we may one day
Isolate it, yes?


he brought her flowers,
Which aroused her…
Suspicion, the he
Invested in candies,
And she asked are you
Trying to make me fat?

obeying traffic laws,
Evokes a net of safety.
Following the flow of
The state route, maintaining
Its constant speed.
Moving along, inching
Toward our destination.


very unstable originals
Gave way to the more
Concrete, conventional
Outlines of standard,
Literary tradition.


conscientiousness
Is not consciousness.
Perspective does help
Define ones perception.



each word, is vaguely
Familiar product, a sum
Of its parts, exposed to
The weather for an utterly
Indeterminable time period.


the sun, and the good guy,
Hoisted the atmosphere,
Lifted our spirits to a
Carefree, lighthearted level.

scattered everything, with
one burst of his lungs all my
order ended, lost to forever.




How could I fault, and be
disqualified, for being? Edgy?
Facetious? Giddy? Pretentious?
What's the word I'm looking for?




blind man's pass, the ambush was
a fluff, until some well unsettled
indians showed. They wished to
collect what was owed to them,
the had to settle for several dozen
casualties and a couple hundred
scalps. Long hairs, balding blonds,
and fresh cut having dark hairs.


His double talk, his honey
lipping melofluous voice,
caressing her inner ear, both
demanding and pleading
simultaneously, commanding
and asking, ashy dust crusted
tone. She cut it short accordingly.



you are not the bright eyed
tulip blooming in mind right
now. Yellow, maroon, brilliant
orange, reminiscent of neon
light glazing over our features.



to start stimulating late
Feeling the jazz, trailing
These classical yields...
My heart hurts man,
And you don't even wear.



paper shredder to
Handle miscues,
Walkman with fully
Charged batteries.
Bicycle to get there
Quicker than on foot,
And the voice to
Grab an ear or two.



stutz stumbles over his thoughts,
Trips on his words, hearing a sync
Up, coming smoothly, easily forward;
Marching along softly, lightly
Progressing, peaking without effort,
Re-peaking sans strain. The nimble
Footwork, left-right coming swifter.

beer or whiskey? A double shot and
A frosty mug chaser, and a block
Of the Alabama black chaw, please.



he flutters in the breeze, swaying
In the doldrums, rising with these
Upgusts; gently clinging to air.
A sparkle of cotton, attached to
A stem, recently separated from
Its perch with several thousand
others, like itself, slowly floating.


he stayed so quiet, so to himself,
Displaying such self control, such
Reserve; he earns moments in sunlight.


ineptitude using electric can opener,
Looking ghostly beside tide out there.

is a novel concept, except
I cannot see independence
Day right now. Crunchy snow,
And crunchier ice have those
thoughts gridlocked, landlocked;
Stuck on side of can hardly fathom.

he like her sway,
He enjoys the way
Her easy going banter
Is evidently, her thinking
On her feet, thoughts bubbling up
From the life zone
Known as similar to
Plate tectonic pressure
Points. Brightly shining thought,
Blooming like gas pockets
In magma rising heatedly.


could say cold, but then would he
Feel the chill? Will the draft
become overwhelming, unignorable?

clumsy of him,
Leaving that vase
On the corner of his
Bulky desk. It was unavoidable,
Unforseeable, that shattering sound
Is engrained in mind;
Vivid like gunshots.



spinning mind, whirling like
Spin cycle, cycling like a
Ceiling fan blade, rounding
Circle like clothes in a dryer.

Round and round and round like a
Clockface, spinning, whirling
Around in there like draining
Water washing away, slirping.


back before the first world war,
Back before cars were common,
Before jazz became an obsession,
Before the plane took an industry
By storm and re-structured.
the thunder rushed the ears, as
Eyes were recovering from
Blast of light, unleashed in
Lightning bolt, touched earth.


he not much of a seer, not much
Of a fleer, let's see how well he
Does being a gear. The beer was
Important, so important some
Body wanted to escort it, they
Wanted imported, consider it so
Important they went to be sure.



To the times pre dating telephone,
A time long before television, or
A microwave, before personal computers,
Long before literate was mainstream.
We sold true cleanliness, at a much
Lower rate than the present competitor,
We made thing available which had
Heretofore been unavailable,
Unaccessible, deemed beyond our reach.



stood on his
Back porch, with a juicy crunch his teeth
Penetrated the apple. He stared at the
Movement he saw, saw along the edge of
Briar patch at edge of the forest. Was
It a cat, no. Maybe a rabbit, or some
Ground hogs, or chipmunks maybe? All
He knew was it had a dull dun fur, it
awoke early and moved quite swiftly,
was afraid of fire and granite colored.



Texas drawl, the Boston twang,
the New York nasal or that
deep south countrified talk.
Stage coach, lasso, shot gun, rifle,
six shooter, pistol, bullet belt
and the boots, with sharp, shiny spurs.



scraggly beard matted hair, he had for
Years been scavenging inside away from
The white sands of the dust covered
Moon. Inside the colonies dome,
In the air dodging the work force,
Their daily grinding. Staying away
From the criminality chromosome
Side of town, for fear of isolation.



out on the trail, lungs full of
Fresh air, legs carrying him along
Pine needle strewn paths on
The other side of the thicket,
Held together by countless feet
Having passed this way before.



Inward runs the city, away from
The sheer drop of the cliff face
Wall, into the heart of mountain,
Cut like a niche, well formed,
Certainly meant, and invigorating.



one thirteen year old, a lot
Of gunshots and the steady
Pump of the fan, smack of flesh;
Lingering at the edge of the
Mind, the snores, the coughs,
Thinking coffee and sandwich.
Why are so many words loaded?


bright enough to see the scratch
By, the chicken dinner, never
The microwave variety though,
Into it more often than not.
Not necessarily known to chew it,
I lay it out and wait it down.


twenty minute western shorts,
Bank hold up, currency exchange
Robbery, jewelry store gut check.
Shoot out, escape with bullets
Wizzing by our ears, our necks.



rounding up the herd of cattle,
Urging on the dog leading sheep.
Cutting down miles tall trees,
With only an axe and leather strap.
Riding horses under starry skies.



well worn rugged cowboy at saloon,
Meets mister ritchie, monogrammed
Everything, and the English accent.



a coke? Sure
A soda pop sounds good.
A beer? Yes, can
Bottle, doesn’t matter.
A cup of coffee?
Make it an iced coffee.


He had not love for the grit, for
the dirty dust which detested
his existence. Which clung to the
walls, the dishes, to the very air.

i humbled his source,
First seeking to trace it
To its inspirer, its
Basic unit of comparison
And beacon of light.


i found it emanating,
Its darkness framing
A low level shining light.


he was demonstrate
Within the numerous
Layers, and levels,
Of his composition.
Though he lacked many
Essential participants.


could symbolism exist
Outside of a well rooted
Context? I ponder this
Very visual meaning, at
Least once or twice a day.



i sought to step back,
I cannot say I chose
To enact a detached view
Of the world I inhabit.


he ran with whoever
He felt comfortable
With, and those comprising
His potential field,
Seem to always be around.


pizza man was a victim
Of violent crime, many
Times before his death day,
Yet he believed that the
Aggressor keeps the job.


the caravan heated up
As it moved further in
The tour, this band of
Hostilities boiled over
Toward the end, but one
Good show healed old wounds.


bike perched on shoulder,
Wrist supporting its weight.
He climbed the stairs rather,
Deliberately, more forcibly
Than delicately, finally
Arriving at the door on
The third floor, he knocks.


it’s like homecoming weekend,
Or maybe its prom night,
The process of selecting, or
Picking the couple most
Representative of the school.


gray floors, cinder block
Walls, steel doors and big
Vaunted locks, voices
Trailing down the halls of
Our fabled detention center.


it may have been the riot,
Or was it the fire, which
Caused the final demise
Of our dearest studio.


like the deep end of the
Pool, gives way to the dark
Waters of the quarry’s bottom.
Tanks and fins, aid our push
For the ocean floor, as each
Is conquered, we continue
To seek a greater relative
Depth; constantly pushing limits.


i don’t believe you, that
Tale sounds kind of flimsy.
Is it always this dramatic,
Can’t you tell a mundane
Mistruth, instead of these
Grand lies; name one truth,
One solid, single distinction.


heavy legs, stiff back,
Aching neck, sluggish
In movement, inhibiting;
My simple walk across room.


i saw the front page, but I
Don’t feel up to it, laptop
For a few hours, some TV.
What’s on the radio, for
I choose many things to do,
Before I pick up the newspaper.




you get the general idea,
Hopefully, as I establish
Normal patterns, routinely
Differing lighting, adjusting
Camera angles angrily.
It is almost like a driven
Man, determinedly shooting
A film, in his basement
Partially, and his backyard.


so many circumstances
Working against its due date
For completion, likely I
Will make it, yet I leave
It open to further analysis.


whether it’s a cardiovascular
Upping walk, or an extended
Sitting, the length of the scene
Continues to be dictated by
The action, the conversation.


underwater breathing
Apparatus, the depth
Appears beyond what
Man can capably
Accomplish alone.


it was a substitute
Teacher this week,
He arrived outside
In a pick-up truck.

his light, silent steps,
Or the way her speech
Is accompanied by hands,
Maybe the wriggle in his
Hips as he hoola-hoops.
The physical movements
Are indeed enchanting.



a noble gesture indeed,
This offer of a lift.



her eyebrows rising
Punctuating questions,
Or her frown of deep thought,
Maybe it’s the flinch of
Surprise spreading across;
The story is told through
Her facial expressions.



i call them stresses, some
Refer to these as emphases,
It depends on inflections.


maybe it’s a house set out
On a lonely road, or a cluttered
Apartment in the heart of a
City, adjust to the setting.


i have been told,
Either it goes:
Ideas, situations,
Language and metrics,
Or it is metrics,
Language, situations
And ideas.


how many times a day
Can one honestly say
These here—
Are for our benefit.


i answer woman is the
Bane with, and she shall
Be his salvation.


many step up to the plate,
Few are called on this night.


longing unsated, found in
Want, though I shall attend
To her needs at once, will
It be enough to calm her?




unadmitable,
Hypocritical,
Hospitable,
Beneficial.



a thermometer,
How about decongestant
Slash cold remedy
For this lingering cold I

have developed over the
Last several weeks?


i didn’t know how to tell him,
I had nothing left to tell her.
He acted like it was all there,
She made like nothing was there.
His approach changed too much,
Her approach degenerated so.
I said I guess we’re moving on.


the tarp hauled away
The debris easy enough,
So he continues
To use it to drag away

ever accumulating
Refuse, and his fishing string
On the bamboo pole
Kept him fed well enough.

could use a shovel though,
And a pillow. A
Sleeping bag and a tent
Could be useful,
Antacid for his
Occasional indigestion.


i like the support, excellent
Traction, not too tight, cushy,
I thought custom might be
A little off, but I stand corrected.
This shoemaker is the best.


assembling the deviled eggs,
Finishing shredding cabbage
For the coleslaw and down to
Loading the truck and driving.
Set up should go quickly, we
Have a good rapport between
Us; this catering manager and I.



after the long-run play, it was
An interception. No not that one,
The pass and then the long-run,
Anyway, it’s revolving around
The stiff arm he threw at that
Linebacker. Floored him on the way.


organize closet, go through CD’s and
Remove those which skip/don’t work,
Do the same for the DVD’s and reward
Yourself with that mythic delivery pizza.

bare knuckle brawlers
With the upwards thrust
Underhanded pugilist
Style, knees bent posture bodies
Eyeing dance of other,
Senses searching for
An opening, a weakness
Suddenly perceptible.

returned to the guilt,
Draped in sweaty shame.
In a feverish nightmare
Cursed with dirty money and
Even dirtier sheets,
Rugs. Sweaty little,
Gray clad children.

strangers’ recounting,
Of the same scene,
These strangely estranged
Inner identities
Overwhelm the outer roles,
Leaving minstrelsy of
Phonetic kin in practice.
Sound it out slowly.

he identifies stones, weigh's them
There on the spot; differentiates
Metals and assign value, to a
Modern man the jeweler is a
Doctor of metals and precious gems.


the land of haymakers
Is where I’m from homey,
Whoosh big fist and a lot
Of coat sleeve slide by the top
Of our afro.
You catch one of those
It’s lights out kid, see you
In the morning. In conclusion,
Big fist and the rustle
Of coat sleeve glide over the top
Of our afro, that’s an
Instant sedative.


dirt ringed mouths, drooly, vacant
Stare; chuckled and tousled hair.


all that hip blocks my view,
Drowned in cleavage plump
Thick thighs encased in drum tight denim.
It’s a sprightly hot,
Makes you feel like a lumberjack.