President Pence Steps Off a Tainted Carousel

His lips were stretched into a perfect line
Perfect and pious
Straight and flawless

Pence preens his suit
For the inauguration ceremony
Maybe a trim is in order
Everything has to be “just so”

Line up the conspiracy theories
They’re important too
Save the most poetic lines
For a human that’s smooth all over

But behind it all
Behind the glitter and confetti
Stands the shadow of an elephant piercing a lion

“Those nutty puppets peddling their theories”
Though similar structures can’t be ignored
When you place them side by side

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

He Sounds Like Heaven

Everything was running so smoothly
The missiles were beautiful
One in particular stood out
It was named Chauncey for its loyalty
It would be rewarded soon enough

In the land of nuclear blooms and proper salutes
A radiant man/missile hybrid looked so promising
Even the sounds of stagnation were amazing
They sounded like heaven
Because they wouldn’t be around forever
Those cunning wolves wouldn’t know what hit them
Because cholera was worth more than a thousand warheads


He Sweeps Across the Landscape

The shadow stretches across a village square
Succumbing to a reflex

Streets are filled with portals
Those pools of darkness erasing certainty
He gulps and exchanges the director’s clothing
For a hazmat suit
Blood spills from the doorway
Screams pierce the fabric of interiors

He wanders about the village
Looking for peaceful entrances
Only to find that pathogens reign
Blood is on his hands
Phantom plasma that makes him seem unreal

He tries to escape by touching flesh
To become real
To become a person beyond pleasant sentences
Except expiration dates are as quick as ambition

They expire, keeping him empty
Oh well
The village persists
And he musters more effort


At best, a harbinger

They’ll call him a portent
Sweeping across kempt lawns
A hollow suit thrashing and twisting
Getting caught up in clothing lines
Slapping drones in anger

But they’re trapped too
Ensnared by old technology
And outdated values

Something smells
And it ain’t laundry
He can’t stand the odor of a soaked suit
Except a different set of laws says everything is staying put
The crowd laughs at the buffoon
Drenched and demoralized

He’ll recover, though
As long as the name lives on
And on
Even as a footnote
Or a stepping stone to larger problems

“Reality needn’t be whole, boy”
His dad had told him
And with that memory he was content
To let the clothing lines support him
He needed a rest

You have eyes like the law

Sit down, little lad
“The law, always mangled, smells change”
The boy sat up straight
“You have good posture, unlike the law”
“Look at how the eyes bend to see everything”
“Embraces of every nature, or how you brush your teeth”
“Just anything you could imagine”

The boy squirmed
“See? So does the law”
“Poor posture from not staying in place”
“Oh look, a magazine”
“Oh look, a cigarette lighter”
“Oh look, grandpa’s $5”
“Anything that glitters”

Then the boy slumped
His posture broken for the moment
Or for several
Sirens came from another age
Men in white put the boy in a faceless vehicle

“See, the law does this too”
“Slumping over, playing dead”
“But your posture was never perfect”
“What of the defibrillator, then?
“You’ll become something else”
“Will it be good? Bad?”
“Or maybe just mercurial”
“You were always that, anyway”

The boy stirred in his bed
Struggling out of a fever dream
Unsure of what had happened
His elderly caregiver was struggling too
In the hands of lawmen

The man seemed to radiate toxicity
Burning the hands of his abusers
The boy fell into his fever again
Hoping for the best

A wise soul among the rest

They needed something
The elephants needed a flaw in
Helpful architecture
Spraying water from their trunks
Making the exterior theirs again
After so long
So long
Aching to acquire architecture
Things were finally right as rain

The sun finally rose again
Giving the structure a brilliant yellow glow
Illuminating the various rooms
And the royal grounds were open to the sky
Letting ospreys land
The elements on their heels

“The Dream” was just beginning
In another instant, it was over
The structure quivered in victory
Exiling ospreys, and the Senators of old

One Senator stood apart
He had always considered himself philosophical
Pondering what had went wrong
Something about the architecture of this place
Was cleverer than the lawmaker
Bringing those worthless souls together

But it remained fluid
Not to be trifled with
Maybe the Senators would burn the paper
On which the words that gave it life were printed
Worshiping and hating the thing
Something had to be done


Trump’s Eagle Speaks Out!

Sights unseen are another thing
Buildings returned to earth
Or obscured by the shadows
Of up and comers
Gettin’ lean
Tightening the belt
And firming up a ship led astray

Minimal is the way to go
Just ask the eagle
Resting calmly beside its master
Laughter and a few murmurs about a name
Nothing too serious
Now a name has so many molecules
Attached to it
Already so tired

100 days is at the other end of the horizon
And a name just keeps coming
A lean government arouses excess
But the important thing is to stop
That them there American carnage


Syllables Endure

Time is of the essence
But labels can lie languidly
Unaware of grapes
Being funneled into
Waiting mouths

Labels rule the day
Treated like royalty
“I’m a Kantian”
“I’m a post-structuralist!”
“I’m a liberal!”
“I’m a conservative!”

I’m a puffer fish!
I’m a Ferris wheel!

Such contentment
Too many labels to count
Share the wealth!


The Nuclear Option

It was about a month ago, we were talking about the nuclear option, which meant something entirely different in that context. Ah. The innocent days of Mitch McConnell and the threat of authoritarian takeover.