“It all stems from my fear of oranges.” “Oranges as in the fruit, or oranges as in the hues?” “Don’t even get me started on Hughs. I have a cousin named Hugh who puts his feet in suitcases six times a day. Try to figure that one out.” “I meant hues as in… never mind. … Continue reading Hews
Too many lolligagging pricks sitting around drinking tea and charming snakes from baskets. Everywhere you look, reptiles succumb to the suggestive power of complacent know-it-alls. Am I going to have to be the one to stop it? You’re cowards, all of you. Oh, so some snakes are poisonous? Some lazy fools might have a violent … Continue reading Herald
The tollway ground its feet in muck today to boost a no good scoundrel past the cops. But why, you ask? Make law enforcement try. They have to nab their man, finger their perp, throw the book at him, put him in the clink, throw away the key, take away his stuff, serve him all … Continue reading Entrance Exam
For the most part–as we say around here–no longer does the swan neck riverboat captain hang a hopeful liturgy dispelling the climate of zesty zebra hooves in the sand; an antelope gawks at this critical misstep, but only for a second–it flees from a cackling hyena whose bark is much worse than its bite.
It’s rare that I post twice about myself without a poem. I could go through this site’s archives and try to prove just how rare it is (probably lower than 1%), but you’ll just have to take my word for it. My inspiration used to be a sound; the beginning of the first word that … Continue reading Inspiration Shift
Poetry is difficult, and I understand that as well as anyone. I’m guilty of not reading the craft of condensed literary art– I’m too busy making my own. I don’t think that’s a crime, though I do feel as though I need a little push and pull in that reading and writing relationship (as it … Continue reading Poetry Is Difficult
Exuberance flies through the mouth of a hog; that tenderloin needs a few days. Burrow in a barn and send up a flare when the farmer picks up his old pitchfork. The crows don’t seem to mind the cold; they didn’t invest in a timeshare. The kitchen smells like onions and bacon grease.
A gaunt man wearing a fur hat and beat up blue parka twiddles his thumbs on a Sunday morning in Central Park. A casual observer would ask: “Well isn’t there a chess game he could be playing right now? I mean, who twiddles his thumbs these days anyway? Is he counting the number of twiddles? … Continue reading Twiddle
The refrigerator holds an endless supply of charming dental whiplash for perusal at a moment’s notice; territorial shotgunning beating corridor hymnals to the moon and back with exceptional speed. Suspend images through honey rollers and feather breakneck sausage patties atop unlaid bricks and mortar. It doesn’t take much when you really think about it.
The versatile, edible almond–taken for granted–roasted, salted, packed into tins. They wait, unbreathing. They see the intricacies of the rigid universe–the spheres and hues and flocking birds–from their sealed vantage point. They take it higher, to philosophy, faith and free will. They struggle to imagine how their brethren must feel out in the air, mobile … Continue reading Snack Love
I spent my educational life pursuing beauty for the sake of growth and maturation. Now I enter the professional world, which seems to have simplified into the basic pursuit of survival. I have to ground myself and convert the skills I gained from poetic thought and colorful patterns into profitable systems for comfortable living. I … Continue reading With Me?