Monthly Archives: December 2021

Because of a Tumble

They met while their clothes were tumble drying at the laundry mat. 
She seemed glued to her paperback and her chewing gum. 
He was busy chuckling to himself, reading an old copy of Mad magazine. 

There was the smell of cooking clothes 
and the sound of a purchased Coke 
dropping in a vending machine. 

He watched her, pretending he didn't. 
She didn't really see him at first 
being too occupied with the dog-eared book in her hand. 


Her dryer cycle needed more quarters. 
She fished in her purse, but it was no use.  He saw her dilemma 
by the annoyed look on her face. "I still have a couple, 
and if you need them..." She seemed embarrassed 
at his offer but agreed to borrow the coins 
on the condition she would pay him back the next day. 
He said that wasn't necessary.

Four months later, they eloped.
Everyone said it wouldn't stick.

30 years later, 
they were still visiting the old laundry mat together.

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Posted by on December 16, 2021 in Poetry


Sourced – Haiku

               there is a presence
               at the base of your being
               the source of your life  

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Posted by on December 15, 2021 in Poetry


Dot Calm

finding the
companion windows
online dating service profiles

like hunting for the megalodon tooth
in a kiddie daycare sandbox
better odds
of finding the oversized tooth
at the preschool

often spurious
the cause for self-flagellation
to suck it up like statues
with crumbled packages

yet those knife-edge
mascara lashes can leave marks
fanging into the pump

coy-pretentious smiles
saying thank you
we may have the chemistry
translated your a loser get lost
the first kiss like a dead fish

but don't let yours
be frozen blue
by the meet & greet with a bloody mary
at the local wine bar

the profile gentle like a dove
but the lasers of the vulture
are dateus interruptus

constant device notifications
oh I'm sorry I have to answer this
shifty eyes dart
the device back and forth
the secretive cryptic smile -

just angling the wider sea
while looking thru me
being played like a slot machine
the avalanche of curls

cascading down
the stroke never given
push-ups push up
hacky sack slippery slopes

well not -
double bubble boiling trouble
don't squeeze the papayas

frequent rejection births repulsion
instead stay sane
more fulfillment found
adopting a rescue dog or cat

.07 8/5

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Posted by on December 15, 2021 in Poetry


Born in a Barn

What difference would it make if you really believed the story of Jesus being born in a donkey's feed box? 

What if his mother conceived him without a human father's seed? 

What if the architect of everything chose to enter the realm of time and space as a flesh and blood baby boy? 

What if he was born to flesh out the creator's love in the most demonstrative way possible? 

What if he came to be a blood sacrifice to take away the sins of the world - including yours? 

What if his death on Golgotha's cross-crowned hill was planned before planet earth even existed? 

What if he is your savior, your healer, and the only hope for all of humanity?  

What if the account concerning him isn't a fable or mere legend? 

What if that Christmas baby lying on the food box's straw grew up to overcome the grave - and he did this all for you?

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Posted by on December 14, 2021 in Poetry


A Matter of Identity

a disguised person landed here 

we had no reason 
                             him to fear

saw us through a child's tear - 
enfleshed creator did appear 

a mundane traveler landed here 

our suspicions
pierced him with a spear

many turn him a deaf ear
try to make him disappear 

his name provokes some to jeer 
but hear this person 
                      risen here

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Posted by on December 13, 2021 in Poetry


Ants in Our Pants

If it's not the virus
it's the experimental vaccine or the
spinoffs delta and omicron,
or boosters for life

masks on the family around
the Christmas tree
or two masks may not even be enough
or the nincompoop who declares
second amendment rights and a
right to not to mask while spraying 
angry droplets in your face

or kids locked up like prisoners on the border, or
where's the wall now? or covid illegals
being flown to a city near you, 

or paying
thirty bucks for the turkey that cost eighteen

last year. or not enough toilet paper on the shelf
a run on it, and customers tussling in Cosco for
the last pack of rolls. 

or China "not gonna eat
our lunch" then china eating our lunch, 
the dopey guy on CNN whacking off publicly 
on a zoom call, 
kids schooling on zoom while
playing video games on split-screen and watching

or thinking maybe it's time to save the trees
and wipe with my hand - like they do in India
(I tried it once but left a faint odor on my fingers)
ya, I smelled em. Maybe I didn't do it right 
or left-handed. 

We shouldn't
shake hands anymore anyways. seems Americans
are more worried about wiping than food. 
peaceful protests that burn cars and buildings
with Molotov cocktails 
demanding that the police be defunded, 
or that the politicians that have bodyguards 
with real guns who, for votes, pretend
they support the idea that 
the police should be defunded - of course, just
not theirs ... 

someone said, "it's the ant
that terrorizes the elephant, not the lion."
what about a whole bunch of ants?   

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Posted by on December 13, 2021 in Poetry


Five Coats of Varnish

I'm alone in a room full of ghosts; 
a dark brown cabinet stands about six feet to my right. 
It's about a hundred and sixty - 
from the mid-eighteen hundreds. 

My old flame and I drove to Terre Haute to get it 
from her grandpa Denzel; 
he was nearly ninety at the time.
she was fifty, took three kinds of anti-psychotics, 
smoked three packs of Marlboro Lights a day, 
and blew as many blunts 
as she chanced to score. 

I met her on MySpace in a poetry room. 
She gushed over my poetry &
she wanted to email me personally. 
Her poetry blog titled 
"Words of an Angel" had
a kind of simplicity and primitive appeal.
It was childlike and arousing. 
She sent me a video of her dancing sensually 
in a black sweater and sheer skirt 
to Dido's White Flag. 
She danced as unsophisticated as she wrote.  
Her unassuming charm taunted and teased me, 
so, in September 2007, I went to Indiana to visit her. 
We spoke about poetry for a while, 
then we flirted, and ... 

Five months later, we got married
and moved to Ohio, 
& on the very night
I carried her across the threshold
she overdosed on Klonopin,
which made her like a zombie 
for about three days. I sent her back 
to her apartment in Indiana 
to get checked by her psychologist. 

The marriage didn't last 
because she fancied 
an Indiana drugstore cowboy on the side. 
She filed for divorce after three months. 
But even during the process, 
she would drive up to see me in Ohio.
The divorce was finalized. 

But I drove down to Indiana a month later 
and married her again. 
She was on new anti-psychotics for BPD, 
though I had no idea what that was. 
After Christmas, while I was at work, 
she attempted suicide in the living room. 
She had swallowed about twenty-five Klonopin 
with some liquor. I called 911, and they
pumped her stomach at the nearest 

After that, she went back 
to her old apartment in Indiana. 
She met another poet on MySpace,
who she said was her true soul mate.
He sent her a plane ticket to meet him
in California. She wanted my approval.
So we divorced the second time
a year after our first, 

I never saw her again. 

Until A few months ago - 
when I saw her obituary online
with a tribute of pictures, many of which
I took of her. 
The cigarettes must've got her. 

I sit here haunted, missing her, 
with her family cabinet glowering
six feet to my right.


Posted by on December 11, 2021 in About Me, Poetry


Swing Away

They will do you for a Franklin.
or cash app or Venmo
But the ways of the insatiable flesh
will always enmesh
crimson lights used to sign the door.
but now a meat market lines in rows 
netted in Amazon-like cam shows
so if you are hungry or horny
you can click to go next-door
to almost the same store
to peep at your children hitting the floor

we hear so much about being "woke,"
but as long as we denigrate the priceless,
we're a joke
if the #metoo picks and chooses 
according to their political stooges
giving some frequent flyers a pass
because of dishonest ideological bias
then they stand for nothing
worst than asleep, they're liars  

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Posted by on December 10, 2021 in Poetry



Twelve years ago,
all the old whys, like puss-filled blood,
dribbled to the floor.
I heard the sound of my choking voice,
"There's only one you you must live with."

I lay alone that whole day,
lost all track of time, the world,
all mental foundations were gone.
The bleak spiral was broken,
my unfettered thoughts were the key.

Budding like the spring,
this new verdant word.
Though, I almost overlooked -
nearer than the nose on my face
my true identity was only just me.

is my part in the journey
complete with pitfalls
But fear is not my guide,
now is my only chance to live.

Again, I began to hear
myself, like a child, 
beginning to soar again -
though the dark cloudy shades,
I breathe them in,
so everything can be chosen.

I have come a distance,
And have seen my share of pain.
But, to disown my voice?
Intolerable! I won't!
I am now my own best friend.

© 2007

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Posted by on December 8, 2021 in Poetry


Pickled Herring

Ten fish from India
on a hand carved wicker memento
presented as a token and a sign.

The brown one fell off
and hit the floor.
The glue got old, so
stick it back,
where those that languish
on sewage-dump streets
full of goonda pimps 
and underage whores
with rat-eaten limbs
who daily swim dreary
in dead-eyed schools
pickled with raw 
toxic waste 
a fisherman's care.

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Posted by on December 8, 2021 in Poetry