2020 Ars Poetica Breaking Muse Poems

Two Towers

Standing behind the crowd in the
Auditorium, looking down at
The Wasteland and more importantly
The Poet on a pedestal who
We were in awe to see. We bow
And say blessings to the lord of the
Modern moment where everyone realized
We were doomed. That the industrial gloom
Would blacken our minds as it had
Already blackened our lungs
And blinded our windshields
Our eyes in the dim lit neon spectacles, wept.
This was my experience from the lectern.
And I worshipped for many years the
Quartets and the high-minded — I don’t
Understand — Get the Encyclopedia — language

But, this was

I reckon
a more clearly modern mind

I find
The Red

And a delicious

And I am

By nothing too Mythic
At all (save Unicorns & Beasts)
Just A

Of images
and words
That float along on pages

The rhythm
Tapping its foot – – –
Variably – – – –

Before you know it
You don’t know it
You don’t know why

It has changed
But it feels
So right.

Justified on the page to fit
Left and right
Right and wrong
Tomorrow and Goodnight

The Wanderer
The Sparrow
The Woman
The River

The Man
The City
The Poet

Of the plain
Every day
And therefore
Devotionally and divine poem.

2020 American Place Poems

Night B4 Christmas

We used to spend
A lot of time
At Christmas

Making magic
In the dark
Behind the curtain

From whole carrots
Left for reindeer
Turned to shredded Peels

The half drunk
Milk and a belly
Full of cookies

I didn’t need
To eat to
The secrets revealed

In the morning
When they wake to
Find “Santa Came!”

2020 American Place Poems

Winter’s Day

Winter is here
If you
Live someplace cold

Cold is here
Muffin tops
Made of glass

Glass window
In fog
With Christmas colors

Colors everywhere
This time of year
A light
To bring you
Through the dark winter night

2020 Bird Song Poems Winter


3 Robins
in a bush

Murder of Crows
On the roof

In search
Of water

In search
Of food



2020 Poems

Hypnic Jerk

You fall (asleep);
You call
“My Rings”
You sit straight up
And do the
Hypnic Jerk

The floor gone
An elevator on
With only one

You flail
And crick your neck
Wiplash as
You do the
Hypnic Jerk

Sure you’ll die
You fall awake
Strain at the ache
Of sudden

You object and
Represent the 70%
Who do the
Hypnic Jerk

2020 Poems

Sitting by the Window

The old man sits
His accomplishments
In his lap

A bag of
Memories and triumphs
Moments and epiphanies

He is alone
Now, sometimes unable to
Make sense of the bundle

He opens it
Rummages for one
To abate his longing

No longer relevant
All of his virile impressions
Are now gathered here

A wish to silence
The depression, the anger
With one last victory

And, if some passerby
May find him here
He would always share

For the stories
Of these deeds
Were all he has left
…to give…

2020 Breaking Muse Poems


My consciousness comes
In globs of Honey

Amber capsules
Holding the
Last vestiges of my dreams

Dropped and drawn
Into the moments
Of what the day may bring

With darkness–
With sleep…

The bending on a
Dali Clock
Stilled and stopped

Time travel
before it
Begins again
–at 7:10

2020 Albuquerque American Place Poems

New Moon The Waning Year All Souls

The full blue moon set
This morning on Hallow’s Day

A Day for Dead
To be remembered

Alters built
For friends and pets
Family, loved ones
These ancestors we’ve kept
In tales of remembrance.

The power of the story
To recall the spirit
Of our cherished gone.

We long
For resurrection!
And within
These brief moments
They are here
— With us.

2020 Albuquerque American Place Poems


The withering leaves
Holding on to the green
As they struggle
Laden with
Snow to control
The last moments
Of their living existence
Short the distance
To the ground
Where they will soon
Be piled up
Into fond
Childhood Memories

2020 Poems

A Year Has Passed

Another year has passed
And Autumn comes again
at last
To usher in memories
of my poetic dreams

I’ve stalled time and again this year
Not completing themes I fear

Lost my way in the anger
Of the body politic, a danger

To my own mental peace of mind
In due time perhaps I will find

My way back home to discover
The fruits of Garden Psalms, a labor

To harvest fruits much greater
Than the hatred that blooms

A simpler time I pine for
Where neighbors still knock at the door

To share their lives and times
before the Covid grind where

Hate and isolation define
This once tolerable nation.