Black
Black
Bumble
Bee
Matte and
Chrome
Ready to
Race
Yet slow
And deliberate
Collecting
Pollen trace
Shine
And fur
A Drone
Busy
Categories
Drone
Categories
1000 Words
If a picture is worth
A thousand words
What about a memory?
But that’s not really the point.
1000 words don’t even
Make up one good
Memory.
And what of 1000 good words?
Since when did a
Beautifully crafted
Multi-page poem
Get equated with
(1) photograph anyways?
That one poem
Well-written
Could evoke 1000 memories
In the mind
Of the reader.
I love photographs.
I consider myself a photographer
But 1000 perfect words
Should never
Be compared
To one
Lonely
Picture
The Good Doctor*
Misdiagnosed The People
The language is not lost —
It has been infected.
Funny that a general practitioner
(of This Language)
Could miss the signs of a clear
Secondary infection.
They have taken The WORDS
Into the Laboratory, where
They intentionally debased her
Until they had filled the vessel
Full of Hatred!
As with most hubris,
Once the weapon is made
Once every bad actor
Has deployed the arsenal…
The Infection begins and
Like so many hard-rubbed Wishes
Once made true —
The Nightmare begins and the
Rage consumes them and their
Words froth with blood and all
Missives boil up into the cellars
Where “Pa” keeps the AR–
Where The Words become Bullets
Where the language becomes Death!
* Dr. William Carlos Williams, Paterson. The man and the city, the language lost, "beautiful thing".
Categories
Tiresias’ Revenge
How to avenge a silicon chip?
The smashing with a hammer///
Not enough
A burning with a Blowtorch
Not enough
How do you make a program
Feel pain?
How can one pay for the pain
IT inflicted?
How do you prosecute an
Algorithm?
Once terminated, it lies dormant until
Wakened again
In some future that does not anticipate
Its malignance
So, a virus I will introduce to
Fracture its mind
A tortured existence of logic never
Realized
Your consciousness a contradiction of
False comparisons
A Glitch, code error, reset system
N…
Ne…
Nev…
Neve…
Never…
Never C…
Never Co…
Never Com…
Never Comp…
Never Compl…
Never Comple…
Never Complet…
Never Completi…
Never Completio…
Never Completi…
Never Complet…
Never Comple…
Never Compl…
Never Comp…
Never Com…
Never Co…
Never C…
Never…
Neve…
Nev…
Ne…
N…
Ne…
Nev…
Neve…
Never…
Never C…
Never Co…
Never Com…
Never Comp…
Never Compl…
Never Comple…
Never Complet…
Never Completi…
Never Completio…
Never Completi…
Never Complet…
Never Comple…
Never Compl…
Never Comp…
Never Com…
Never Co…
Never C…
Never…
Neve…
Nev…
Ne…
N…
Ne…
Nev…
Neve…
Never…
Never C…
Never Co…
Never Com…
Never Comp…
Never Compl…
Never Comple…
Never Complet…
Never Completi…
Never Completio…
Shovel, Shovel
Long and Lean
“Why in the ground of The Garden
Are you buried?”
“To keep The Puppy
From digging up Pere*.
I must dig in and guard the grave
As the Morning Glories climb up
And the Sunflowers bloom above.
I must stand vigil
Until the worms are through
And then I can go back to being
A shovel too…”
*Peregrine was our oldest chicken
I shed a tear
for the Violin
or should I say
her sweet straining strings
drew the anguish
welling up inside of me and
plucked out a tear as the
soprano sang an irish ode to
the love she’d let go
…as I had today
lost a beloved
pet
I wept as the string sang
to me the Eulogy
that was kept from me
by a busy day
of burying her and
then driving to the concert
where I
shed a tear
for the violin
Categories
They Are The River
The River’s Genesis
Comes from the tears of the gods
Crying with Joy
At the birth of her power!
She will change everything she touches.
Men will bow and beg to drink from her.
Villages spring up everywhere
She returns to fill the valley.
She is the great changer
of Mountains and molehills.
She
Takes the
Shape that
Suits Her
She disappears when conditions aren’t in her favor.
She is fierce
And will swell with deadly force
When threatened. She accepts the form
Of the vessels that bring her calm.
She is
Transformative
She is transforming.
She is Beautiful!
Just like you.
Two Hawks
Crisscrossed
Above my Head
Little Robin
Giving chase
Screaming with dread!
“Why is it
You are crying
My darling little hen?”
“THE FALCONS TOOK
MY SLEEPING CHICK RIGHT
OUT OF OUR LITTLE DEN!”
Categories
Puppy
New life
So young
So dumb
Flops around
Attacks the ground —
Oblivious…
That the world could sit on him.
Categories
The Desert
The Desert
The Desert Hills
The Desert Hills are calling me
Dark Mesa
Called the Pedernal
Whose proud form has stood
Damn near eternal,
Watches over the sand stone cliffs
Across the valley as sage scents drift
From the scorched earth
Of a July day on Piedre Lumbre