vignette with woodstock music


The sky is falling

it fell,


didn’t you receive an ice cold text?


Green leaves hug neighborhoods, forest streams

hiding views

of things dead

The sky is falling

on who,


everyone, sooner or later,

between summer and fall ...

love the fall


its colorful falling

collecting 'leafs' into piles of sameness,

A vignette, On Trial, poem

On trial

Coming with wind

from over mountain

cold blows

and coal damns children

Needing a room without idiots

intoxication and hypocrites

does Medicaid pay?

Playgrounds behind gates


make bad laws

and, then, break them

never seeing bars

to wake them

On trial

beings loaned by universe

to this?

to death by spiral cuts

A vignette

Sweet is the street

walking in sunshine

skipping on four rollers

snowboarding beyond boarders

breathing octagon crystals


gasping to be

Drowned by the gullies

rushing in silt

smothering fish

flooding the news

food delivered, to the door,

in paper


before its time

plastic feeding cretans of the sea

making hay in rhyme

A vignette--a work-in-progress

Been a while, releasing the pressure...

Had a splendid day,
escaped for a while,
the expectant days bearing down,
abiding confusion of what to do, to say
interrupted in responsibility

Can't change them
can't bow to kidnapping, either
can't assuage guilt
cultivated generation-ally
maybe jesus can do that
but, they have jesus
oh, jesus

Impeachment, working title


Innocence born

does not stay

birthing on cycle

to live again

evidence born by bad men

sailing into bergs, intention-ally

Suns do shine without the shade

rolling in the hay

memories spring from loins untouched

the dog sits by the side

little ones confide

hands slip closer in the night

reaching out for right

gambling for a better plight

Sailing with Motorcycles

Corals reach beyond the bleach

swaying to accordions...

plastic gathers in tides of reason

pundits sing of re-awaking

mushroom clouds tweet of empty seats


Purge the superdelegates

from the mist

of blood and tears


passed down in factories


cover from hard rains


morals, collectively

shared in misery

Burst the gangs of eight