I have gathered all the flocks. That were left. The great beyond calls The versifiers away from home. Wolves call to the distressed with Simple songs. Caterers mingle amongst The vigilant observers waiting out the tryst. Why dispose of the daily bread we cannot Consume when jackals call out names Of troubadours long gone to…

I have chosen you to listen To the inclinations, derivations of inclement Weathering around the edges of what is Known about the differences between The settled and the set-up scheme. I love baseball statistics, its categorizing And rating of what may not even have been Seen by the less than observant Watching the hot dog…

And all the fleeced have gone to sleep. The last chips collected, there are no cheap Replacement modes to gather wits or Count what bodes ill or otherwise. As flies pick the crumbs of buffets Closed for the brief time it takes To clean the commodes before the next Dreamers arrive to wish upon the…

1. How to add to the ongoing conversation that is web-like over us all is a question. Or subtract, pare down to an essence of something. Information is not knowledge someone once said I’m sure. Leading, lending itself to definitions, and the observer is the decider I guess we could propose as long as it…

On this blue sky day the clouds are painting poetry. Is the wind the author, I wonder? Long lines wisp straight across the horizon, could be “projective verse” far as the breath will go. The short puffs are Williams or Cummings descending down toward earth, its vast girth the open auditorium where this all plays…

1. The vertical and the horizontal extend out to plain forever. The trees are dripping leavings over unknown lives. Collateral outfits crowd the gutters. Last night’s bar bottles glisten in the street. Coarse recourse & cheap sh*t talk scatters the mom & pop grocery dirge. We’re smoking & looking for options, glassy-eyed, sun-blind, off course…

When the space arrived at the end when all else that day was done there was nothing left to do about it. The chatter, packing and unpacking of the business day, banter of a shallow sort, the very pretend was the reality that capitalism brings. Those left quietly to their own just desserts were holding…

For Kay Ryan The table is always empty in their house, where neatness is kin to religion. The idea of the horizontal surface’s power to hold disparate refuse of the day never flowers in their room where perfection in appearance becomes a tomb.

We are so many different places part of the time. Different places define how we act, present ourselves part of the time. We are so many turning about to hide the others we show to no one. I hold the hand mirror behind my head to show my leaving the others. Alone with no one…

I am not interested in how you put together your life, only that you were betrothed to me in your conglomerateness. Paging back through the bits that made sense or were interesting holds us enthralled like watching the life of the aquarium in the city in the dark. Pausing to catch your breath as you…