There’s An Atmospheric Pressure

There’s an atmospheric pressure
That’s in more than just the air
It’s a sluggish, heavy parasite
That hides behind the glare

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But Which Jaw Drops?

An advert assures us its product is jaw-dropping
If true, this loss of body parts would be painful
And which part of the purchaser’s jaw drops?

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A Discarded Cat

She adopted us several weeks ago
And after the usual hissings and spittings
Was accepted by the other cats…

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Sombre Absurdité

O grand giants of Gath in grotesque graves,
will ye dread the deer that dance in your lays?
Does and bucks do the dead ye not revere?
And the dark dense depths do ye truly fear?

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Pipe Tobacco and Memories

Today I smelled tobacco from a pipe
Although there was no one around except
Perhaps the ghost of the hardware store savant
Whose wisdom filled the air along with smoke

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Unworthy

Lord, I am not worthy,
That Thou should enter me.
For I am but a sinner,
Yet Thou hast set me free.

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Fireflies

Trees form an arch overhead, / 
shading my eyes from the fierce sun.
 / I’m winding down the twisted paths, / 
meticulously moving through the shadows. / 
Back and forth, the road bends and turns.

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The Stillness of the Summer Solstice

Short strings of words that breathe and sigh as songs
Sunflowers fainting in the afternoon
A treefrog pulsing on the windowpane
Ladybugs drowsing on a tomato leaf

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Mentum Caduca

eyes like fire
and heart like frost
mind of mire
soul exhaust

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All Literature Is World Literature

All literature is world literature / A culture that hugs itself to itself / And refuses to share and share alike / Consumes itself in a closed loop, and dies

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Adil’s Tuxedo

Adil paces the floor
Impatiently waiting for a very important package to arrive.
His suit, the suit, the perfect tuxedo for his wedding
A vintage tuxedo like that worn by Cary Grant

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A Dog, a Pocketknife, a Twenty-Two

A dog, a pocketknife, a twenty-two
The rightful possessions of every Texas lad
For working out the values he must live up to
The virtues that he learned from his solid ol’ Dad

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A Rising Seedling Roars

Crumple clenched fist leaf flings up
From damp earth’s deep urn and dark
On furied stipple stems fluorescent green
Vitality gleaned from seed pod potential

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Each Altar is Minas Tirith

Each Altar is Minas Tirith these days
A city of kings and of the true King
Behind whose twice-barred gates and golden doors
The faithful may find refuge for a time

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