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Since I can’t seem to write anything sudden, I reprise, replay, repost
and resolve to soon produce many poems novel.

Thank You for understanding.

One Day At A Time

I’m going to start doing Sundays sober
with the Times unread
and the game unwatched
and pass on the beach
to stay off-line
and out of the bar

And if negating Sunday proves easy,
I’ll random walk a week
to annul, for instance,
Thursday, which
I’ve never really
cared for

On Sunday, after baseball, I take up song lyric writing. No foolin’. Moon and June to soon discover, same as last Sunday, that I have little talent in the area. Code, I can’t either. I sing others’ songs and use others’ apps. So it’s off to a small batch bourbon and the London Review Of Books. Where I read about others’ books.

circa early 2000(ish)


Somewhere someone plans
a spring offensive
somewhere someone young
will die
the old will be bled
and babies force marched
through a warmer gentler

Where bombs will concuss
bullets bloom
and snipers shape shift with
sudden green shoots

and headlines will seek
an approbate font

as the front opens
winter’s history revised

Day Two NaPoWriMo April 2013

Easter Basket Case

In Easter Sunday new
knee-high to alter
on tip toe to offer
and all the while sinning
somehow on credit-
being born
past due.

But the real trespass
was that clip-on tie-
that suited my grandmother
while shaming her daughter
who whooped as she Windsored
then settled for four-in-hand
that served as a forget-me-knot
a rosette to original sin


…at least 20 years ago


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