Thursday, June 18, 2015


Breath
stops
as soon
as you try
to hold it. Hoarded
manna breeds maggots, and power
storage typically involves some sort of battery.
Wind cannot be contained, and when
harnessed it becomes
something else,
hostile
to
birds.


Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Wise 
tree,
delight
to the eyes,
lies at the center 
of Eden. Ah, man the master!
You cannot always
have your fruit
and eat 
it
too.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015


He
has
brought us
once again
into the garden,
between trees ripe with beautiful
fruit. We can choose life
or judgment
of right
and
wrong.

Monday, June 15, 2015


I
stand
before
the tree of
judgment and morals,
and see that the sages spoke truth.
The fruit is good. If
we eat it
we shall
be
gods.

Friday, June 12, 2015


We
are
alone.
Egyptian
gods and whips have ceased
to goad us. We do not yet dream
of freedom. Each night
we are still
grasping
at
straws.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

 
First
the
baby
fell asleep,
followed by my arm.
I'm glad about the baby, but
I wish that my arm
would wait for
the rest
of
me.
 

Wednesday, June 10, 2015


Do
not
settle
too soon. Let
slow residual
sediment float uneasily
down thrpugh deep and cloudy waters until everything
is unexpectedly softened,
transformed to velvet 
by a fine
layer
of
dust.


Tuesday, June 9, 2015

The
whirl
wind will
not be still
and the earthquake won't
cease to clatter like loud cymbals.
It is all just noise.
I await
the voice
of
peace.

Monday, June 8, 2015

The world is full of sex and drugs and rock-
a-bye-baby. In retrospect, perhaps we should
have been more concerned about the lullabies.
The swaying motion preserves a sense of safety.
It does not preserve the actual baby,
which I may, even now, be throwing out with the bath.
Excess caution always comes with danger,
and this is no exception.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Why
did
the new
born kitten
cross the road? There are
no answers,
only
punch
lines.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Fidelity

Good old Castro was a campesino (We think it rhymes with Reno, but what do we know?) And when he left his rustic roots behind, He always was most generous and kind. Believing beans and rice to be the best, He saved that sort of food for all the rest. Humble Castro, former campesino (Perhaps it rhymes with rhino. How should I know?) Subsisted mainly on roast pork and veal; Proving his ideals at every meal. He fasted from the pleasant peasant fare, But still produced vast quantities of air.

Monday, June 1, 2015


Be
ware
the mill
stones: heaven's
kingdom is at hand.
Where last are first, the children stand
in for God. The wheel
turns: beware
lest you
be
crushed.