A Quiet Glide

The hard part about
Getting old
Is watching
The whole world
Gray along.
The ground limps.
The sky
Shares a lost thought
In the glint on a wave.
Teachers and preachers
Loose teeth with the moon.
They break
With cragged rock
Stretching for a violent sea.
Brown polka dots
Scare children
Who sleep to wake
And wear them.
Can we see with aging eyes
We take a quiet glide
Around a vibrant sun
That too will bloat and burst?
On a canvas of mass,
A clockwork
of light and heat,
Slowly dying,
Your eyes lose heart.
Your girl’s breath labors.
I follow you.
Stuck in a groove
Circling a star.



Marketing to babes

Revolutions come with marketing. Hits per page per minute posters.
Jesus lives
On a cross on a necklace.
On TV.
Purchase freedom by the unit
For return on investment.
Buy to sell and sell to live.
There’s a war with
Lives on the line.
It’s that fucking serious.
Family, friends, trust are premium,
Quality all-natural products.

I was a boy on a bike
Pushing gears you built
For some aimless babe.
Paper covers rock. And steel.
And makes pretty girls kiss
Driven, gnarled men.
I was jumping the slope
And skidding to a stop.
Never knowing our possibilities.
Our shared space. Our distance.

Fly a plane into a building.
Eat creamy delicious.
Swallow anti-coagulates.
Sleep child sleep.
But pray to The Necklace.
And pledge allegiance
To a symbol that stands
For something. Anything.