Tag Archives: poetry

Sky in the Water

Reflecting on reflections,

Neglecting rejections,

Walking around the little lake,

Buzzing bugs hover and hide

Behind oak leaves and Bermuda grass,

Tucked safely in bark grooves,

We sing synchronized to Father Sun

and Mother Moon. 

Step, swoon, step, sween.

The lake wears the sky.

The green embankment calms 

A heavy mind.

Gratefulness swells with sadness. 

Too many gone from a path shared.

They hide too. 

In the willows and wind. 


Death to Dinosaurs 

This poem was the inspiration for the Death2Dinosaurs blog. After months of neglect — I took a job as an adviser with three local cemeteries and thought the name seemed disrespectful — I’m jumping back into blog action. Enjoy! 

———-  ———  ———  ———  ———-  ———- 

Death to dinosaurs is what I see

in my dreams, and it seems 

fair to care why they die.

Large and leathery, wheezing,

stumbling, falling, and then

melting away. Vanishing.

They chased me, and I hid one of

the dogs they wanted to eat.

It felt like the right thing to do.
I don’t know how to make sense

of these places, these dinosaur

faces, fading away over 

entertainment centers. 

They’re random, they say. 

They’re the future, they say.

It’s gray to me, and still it seems

to be something I somehow knew. 

A place no less real than you.
In a land where dinosaurs die, or 

tornadoes fly, or a land where

I’m still in school, how do I know

where my home is? What a home is? 

What is true?

And if that passes as a home there, then

how do I remember to care?

 In those places, with those faces. 

Fading. Dying now.


I want to die with my glasses off.

I won’t worry for a blurry world we know goes on without us.

I’ll rest in death with a face that’s free from the weight of the lenses that sit on my nose thrown and steer these gullible eyes.

I’ll lay splayed like a squished cat on cool concrete. Just as I am.

I want to feel the black fog roll in and kiss these twitchy eyelids ‘night. Who can see the end of dreams anyway?


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.