You have a phone meeting at noon,

address the issue head-on and soon.

Lobbyists are clawing at the doors.

I set up a press conference at four.

Jerry wrote you a speech

he typed it with his feet.

Suppose, he would have used his hands.

But, they were amputated per your demand.

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Derek plummets from the summit

paper feathers attached

fashioned wings upon his back.

Lift him high through the clouds

gently swaying to the ground.

Each trip up the cliff

is a daunting grind.

Daily, Derek makes the climb.

The woods reveal a blissful calm.

But, nothing beats his daily fall.

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Lawn mowers blast Arcadian cacophony.
I flick a mosquito off of me.
Sitting on my front porch step
nails painted in bright red.
Turning all the pages
of my science fiction.
Working on a suntan.
From dome to collarbone.
Cropped top and a houndstooth skirt.
Subjects, objects, and verbs
come and go

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summer brings slurries
wicked sticky sleet drops
puddling, pooling, icicles dripping
slush gushes from the frosted rooftops
winter heat fries the egg
cracked on rocky road
melting the cream
burning the orange cone
Melbourne Falls, darkness dawns
sixty days of night
madness in the streets
kingdom of crime
Tamura Springs, sky rains cancer
the sakura flower lost
our beautiful reminder
...

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abandoned and left for dead
hundred and seven degree day
heat fueled the thirst, then the darkness came
bringing a chill to the plane
stratus clouds hovered knee high
a glowing glass bottle in sight
flowing with liquid vitamins and energy
only the dying would consume that gasoline

last drop of gas hits the tongue
bottled up stratus bits to take back home
no place to go, but grade A die...

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blood seeps thick to the roots
burst back out the bamboo shoots
  oozing across the earth
  sullying the dirt
we drench the world in blood
name of a toxic gov
  fighting for a stretch of land
  soldiers march on scarlet sand
they're soaked in the crimson red
mist of men, registered dead
  plasma dripping down the mountain
  running like a fountain
platelets burst from the peak
98.6 de...

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Lawn clippings left in my mouth
Finest cheese weed
Couldn't produce a lick of saliva
buzzing from the sativa
August 12, 2023
Somewhere in Michigan that night
Under the stars
Local highway, I heard the cars
Crickets chirping bars
Spaced out
Fade out

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Dip in the driveway,
the water puddles and pools.
  Huddled against my front door
  I breathe in my smoke.
  August 14th, 2023.
Exhaling through my nose
the tobacco that I chose,
  Fat Bottom Betty.
Drew estates, Nicaraguan robusto,
choice of the aficionado.

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Been called a jabroni

for lighting a stogie.

Inhaling the relief,

exhaling my grief.

Dawn, August 13, 2023.

On my stoop I sit breathing

the aroma of the leaf.

Smoke caresses my cheek.

I inhale the thick smog,

my lungs give a cough.

Enjoy the taste of the leaf.

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perched upon the table

made of oak and maple

stones carved of cedar and sycamore

is grandpa’s checkerboard

when mom and dad play rummy

the children squat down on the floor

checkers begin jumping

on that old checkerboard

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mechanical horses line up at the gate

riders clad in straps of leather

contemplating their fate

Akira Koike takes up pole position

favored to win

his prized stallion fitted with

an atomic booster engine

the steed is comprised of HSLA steel

welded shut from muzzle to heel

the chariot attached is made of chromed magnesium

lightweight and strong with rivets of ...

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gravity takes ahold of his body and shadow

talons, pinning his shade by the nape

on a cold night, dim lit stretch of pavement

underneath a flickering street light

wings, carrying his body and stretching his shade

rising through the stratosphere

rubber banding under the pressure

as gravity takes him to the peak

talons, slipping, falling from gravity’s feet

he shot back to...

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a bear with the antlers of an elk
slumbers on glacier ice
swimming in the arctic
cranks up the phonograph
blares heavy metal music
for the heavy metal riffs
the bear wakes up at sunrise
paws a bundle of fish
elk-horn bear dances
dances the Earth apart
the glaciers fall into the water
causing the tides to surge

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There's a certain snobbery to rhyming 

I think it's all about timing 

This modern lot say it's not their scene

It diminishes the artistic dream

No competitions are won by rhyme!

You've got to toe the trending line!

Wordsworth & Co would now be snubbed

His daffodils, critically, left unloved.

O Captain! My Captain! 

O give it a rest!

Drop the rhyming! It's for the best...

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