An Arid Man

Just picture a man

Who doesn’t know much
But has a heightened sense of things
Wielding a whip in his mouth, the man turns
Perceiving danger at its peaks
Nothing was filled with everything
Such a vibrant scene

The sun was setting
Conjuring catharsis
As if this were the final time
Another human being said something innocuous
Setting off those dangerous associations again
So the sunset plodded on, offering its tainted magic


Nixon took his dog for a walk
It stopped
Sniffed the grass
Peed on a pine cone

The stars twinkled as if to ask the great man
“Why Why’d ya do it?”
The dog looked up at him as if to ask the same question
Nixon didn’t have an answer
So he let the leash go and walked into the night

The dog howled
Calling to its master
But no one was home


Fatigue sets in
Like a battle formation
Limp limbs make all the difference in the world
The night seems to have more meaning with them around

As the captain surveyed the landscape
He couldn’t separate the trees from tired appendages
There was something medical about the scene
That somehow fatigue was just a prelude to
injury, disease, various medical related things

He didn’t have the heart to wake them
Didn’t have the heart to be a captain anymore
But he did have the heart to walk into the sea
Keeping his eyes open until the sting engulfed everything
The dolphins were playful but altruistic
Making sure the captain stayed afloat until his eyes dissolved

A Sleepy Life

The afternoon nap sets in for the long haul

Gettin comfortable
But still razor sharp
And ready for anything

Hearts slow down
Heat ramps up
Humidity takes without asking
Vegetation grows
Choosing green to represent it
Buildings decay and spread out
Leaking and being joyous
Relaxing for an hour or two

But there’s a human side to the town
Nestled between mountainous courage
Sleeping idols sleep their dreams away
A few ambitious people stroll the cobblestone walks
Gazing at other ghosts like themselves
Stopping to purchase flowers or to ponder what the sea killed that day

Hearts give off a smell too
A whiff of pennies drifts toward the salty sea
He was going to pull the trigger that day
Except the penny thing threw him off
The atmosphere went from all right to all wrong
Now he stands wondering what he’ll eat for lunch
Maybe the vendor down the street is still open
Fish or chicken?

Those damn existential questions

Every Corner of the Earth had an Itch

What a way to go

A drunken suicide via itchy rope
Beezlebub didn’t listen
So now the king of the courtroom
Was trying to find the center
Because getting closer meant his regions didn’t itch as much

The center was getting warmer, then colder
Elusive but perpetually tempting
Arguing didn’t help
It only made the itching worse
And his head would start to swirl
He finally had to settle for “less itchy”
He decided to rest here, at the foot of a faceless statue
Maybe a nap would help

The lights will cease

They swarm in and out

Agents of Empire
Brandishing imperial writs
Given life under a distracting cloud

They do as please
Waiting for the next writ
The red royal seal making their hearts
Go aflutter

One day the orders ceased
No calming slips of paper
To heal fresh cracks
So they decided to write their own
Until the lights came back on

What fun they were having
Trying to mimic the language
That air of fractured authority
Once done they gazed at their handiwork
Everything looked great
Ts were crossed, Is were dotted
They pinned it to the wall
Hoping one day the mogul
With gold dipped hands would visit
Exclaiming over the great words
Despite being inferior to the actual thing
But he never came
The lights never flashed to life again
The parking lot fell into ruin
Boards were placed over the windows

Oh well
More time to have fun in the dark
The candles would keep them warm

A rhythmic robbery

Jewelry, wallets, any valuable went into that rusted tin
Rain hit a metal roof
A tasteful broach followed the sound of pelting from above
Coughing, chewing, the scraping of  overgrown nails
Orange bubble gum was being popped by an ignoramus

The vacuum salesman was succumbing to the sounds
Planning his next move
Letting the rhythm wash over his oily hair and body

This redneck wanted golden watches and pearl heirlooms
But the salesman would give him a powerful lesson in shady economics
Selling a vacuum meant your family could eat for half a day
And when survival was on the table, an off-kilter man and his rusted tin didn’t stand a chance

Cosmic Record Keeping

Just wait
The immersion will come
Swiftly and extending its arms
To enfold the grass and the delta
In loving arms

But luggage will fall from the sky
Ruining any sense of cosmic justice
Uniforms will spread across the lush land
Looking for trinkets
Or bent reading glasses
Loving the rules that structured this hunt

And so they will put on latex gloves
Bend in the proper manner
Regulations A-F didn’t mention anything about
A bottle of snake vertebrae ensconced by a tree trunk
Time capsules will follow their own rules
Manipulating the universe so that discovery respects
Proper timelines and the order of succession

Mr. Comey

He watches the garden through his window
Thanking the neighbor girl for spotted dough
Now is a time for reflection
To understand the flow of time
To assimilate the mind with a broader human nature

He was calm in the moment
Toying with the overdone circle
Quietly devouring chocolate
Careful not to make a scene

The garden swayed obediently
Amusing the former director
The tomatoes were hyper-vigiliant
They even quivered between their metal holders
Wondering when fatigue would set in

“They will make fine ingredients some day”
Comey thought
“They have to develop just a little bit more”
” So that they might be fat and prosperous”

At that, he smiled
Thinking about prosperous tomatoes
Reclaiming the Earth