Forks and Knives

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Don’t you see how, in their toil
The tendrils claw their climb up
Without hope, to break the soil
Even in the desert there is life
Give me one more flower

For me the discourse of hatred
Is always intellectual
Always lodged in notions
Of race and inequality

Is It Benign?

Is it better than it sounds?
It’s not malignant, that we know of
Yet still, it could be worse next round
So bigger hope is status quo

Though not harmful, still a tumor
Music to ill ears, discord to the doctor
Its growth and reach, fortunately a rumor
One can only hope at most, it just elicits laughter

Go, Do, Be

Better to oar the murderous wave
Than drown without a fight
Better to forge the darkness brave
Than leaderless under the light

Notify me
Just to go and do and be

Tiny Racing Hearts

Little junkie birds’
Beaks deep in feeders
Like needles seeking veins
Smack-starved pinions beat
To the sound of survival

Dusk and Waning Moon

That sparkle highway you set out on
Newborn, flat, and sleek
Buckled, wayward, empty now
Not so much the sunset beat

Say It Again

With a “wake-up,” “wake-up” call

I hit my alarm clock

You say I stick too many pins in your balloons
I say you have too many balloons
You say I dash all your, your longest dreams
I say it’s time to wake up, wake up, wake up

Night War

In the waning daylight hours
The night now near seeks war
With stars as shields and lunar swords
While hope of morning’s far

The rays relent, their shadows fast
The dusk surrenders, sends
On twilight’s fields the battle’s cast
Black as night descends


Live life within


Angeled the timbreled morning knights
Bright on scaffolds, might on might
I often wonder what it’s like
To feel the angel’s hair

Movie Magic Matters

A far cry from the first King Kong
The creatures now look real
And that’s perhaps the problem now
They’ve lost their literary feel

Fortunate Field

Found along the way
In a patch called Lucky
Along the way

This is not the high time I envisioned
This is not the way

What was I to do
In a patch called Lucky
Along the way?


Swallow that foaming slush
You call your mouth

Throng Song

Ah, the masses, ebb and flow
In mobs and stadium waves
Hivemind-like their thoughtless tides
Ah, the sea, (and all) the drops it hides

Footprints, If You Like

Lightened of the pain of risk and all that it entails
I fly now, skyward free, without burdens, without sails
Mouth gulps air at untold speed, enough to live and tell
Of baseless qualms, now far away, now a smokey trail

You can find your soul
In your prime, all of the time/
You can find control
All of the time, it’s your time/
You can find it all
It’s your time, all of the time

Little Jesus

Rise and shine little Jesus
Can I put you in my pocket?


There’s a time like this in every land
When up is down and hope is sand
And all that’s left is fear at hand
To fuel the fires that hatred fans