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But When We Zoom In
We Second Guess.
Could I Even Breath Through The Rest?
What’s That Stuff Floating In My Vodka?
Prince Charming Feeling Awkward?
That’s Two Or Three Times Bad for My Health.
That’s What They Say, When I’m By Myself.
Can You Bluff When You’re Dealing Hell?
I Got A Lighter, So I Might As Well.
I’m The Numbest I Ever Felt,
Bluffing My Way Through Hell.
Because I Share ...

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Cannibal JonesHours

A Book of Hours


This poem came to me after a visit to London, where I was thunderstruck by the  scale and beauty of the restored Reading Room at the British Museum. I was also wrestling with Existentialism at the time.



A Book of Hours


There was Time when its Arrow

flowed like a ticking clock


as it carved the future from the past

like a blind sculptor in one dimension



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BookBritish MuseumfreehoursTime


Swaying flowers,

passing hours,

birds in evergreens


happy smiles,

worth your whiles

and sappy little trees


muddy faces,

fraying laces,

and a gentle summer breeze


swaying flowers,

passing hours,

making memories

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