the bulging blue trash bag

stuffed with wadded wrapping paper

rotting turkey innards

and quickly fading memories

waits patiently in the snow

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Fingerprints

December 1, 2017

this vast slab of soiled pavement

collects the fingerprints of those who fall

and those who push themselves up

Future Journals

November 29, 2017

someday

sooner than later

if I had to guess

during drought and wildfire

heatwave and hurricane

as bullets rain down

and blood floods the cracks in our sidewalks

between bomb sirens’ warnings and evacuated streets

while tv news broadcasts promote hate, fear, death

when no one is looking

when no one expects

we’ll enjoy our morning coffee

take our children to the park

drink beers with our friends

and sing along to the radio

young dreamers will still write about falling in love

eternally hopeful for a future so improbable

their journals one day to be found

preserved in our rubble

allowing distant historians to know

the truth

we start rolling

the window down

but stop

even though we have

some spare change

maybe we’re nervous

skeptical

or simply embarrassed

by our good fortune

and during internal debate

the light turns green

so we just drive off

not wanting to cause a delay

Late Autumn (Homesickness)

November 22, 2017

ground so cold and hard

i recall my childhood bed

tucked in, prayers said

Tripe

November 21, 2017

moonbeams shone eternal

a sea of roses in bloom

mystic eyes looking on through winter’s haze

lost lips touching anew

any educated fool can spout such tripe

even i declare

but find me a soul

in this world we live

bringing some sense of hope

to rust

rot

disease

or despair

— all voyeurs peeking in our windows as we lie down for bed —

and you’ve found a clever poet

making fools of us all

Home

November 20, 2017

this expanse of crumbling asphalt

adorned by prevailing weeds

isn’t much to call home, indeed

but it’s where my children happily play

never suspecting there’s something more

…assuming that there actually is, of course