20200430.0430

And when they choke on their own sputum
Suffocating upon themselves
So that Karen could get her hair cut
So that Chad could get a beer
I hope they will think themselves happy
Having gotten what they said that they wanted
Somebody will have to be
I'm sure

20200429.0430

If April leaves us drenched by showers
When she comes
One has to wonder with whom she was on
March
Though it is clear that May and June get something out of it
Coming after as they do

20200428.0430

There is a reason Phoebus and Helios
Tend toward the west
Moving whither Zephyrus labors
Longing towards that blowing
And I cannot argue with it
Enjoying the same

20200247.0430

Eurus is not so callow as has been held
His emissions making sails swell and bulge out from
The structures that have held them aloft
Pushing cargo that pitches up and down
Along old paths long since known
And emulated even now despite
Thrumming machines and pumping pistons
Working to make things complete

20200426.0430

As illness spreads itself across the land
And covers waters with miasmic hand
Still Stupid God's devout together stand
And scream for freedom they think they deserve
Who in the test prove they have not the nerve
To do as they had said they'd do, and swerve
From what they call a straight and narrow path
To virtue. They commit the sin of wrath
And in so doing wallow in the bath
Of sickness others still strive to avoid--
All because they find themselves annoyed
That some would rather healthy than employed
Find themselves and those they love. And they
In folly gather foolishly to pray.

20200425.0430

What of the world the window shows
Bares between the blinds that open
Comes between curtains cast to the side
Is never enough; it does not satisfy
As no few are finding who fought their enclosure
But as many batter against their own bars
Others accept the ill-enforced arrest
Calling their captors as they have been called
For none here are free; all flesh is fetters,
And release from the restraints is rejected by most

20200424.0430

I tried to get up from the table
Tried to leave the feast that others have relished
Where I got only scraps
And those the fetid rinds and cut-away fat
Cooled to a sticking, quivering glob
That I was supposed to suck down with glee
Before I quoted Oliver Twist
And I have never much liked Dickens
But when I rose
I got stuck with the bill
And I pay on it as I can
Though it grows more quickly than the stomachs
That bloat as they gorge yet
While the table creaks and groans

20200423.0430

How many are taking the money
Promised by the painted toadstool-dicked
And how many are about to find themselves
Fucked by the same
Pounded again from behind
Briefly but still for far too long
And left without aftercare
Taking a small blown load because
Some money is better than none
And regretting it but not denying the need?
We are all of us whores.
Some are more honest, and more power to them.
But none of us aren't
And we should remember more fondly those who are more open.

20200422.0430

Waiting to be stimulated
A prick about to push in and pump away
With some thought of engendering new life and growth
But it must be remembered that many fail to find the clitoris
And leave unsatisfied whom they hope to visit again
But what does he care who simply wants to fuck people
Over

20200421.0430

The horns have fallen silent
The drums no longer beat
The flags no longer twirl and fly
No marchers throng the street
The banners now are tightly furled
The criers don't proclaim
The victory that had once been sought
Shout not the heroes' names
Yet still I rise and off my cap
To those who followed after me
And I look forward to the day
We meet again in glee

20200420.0430

I, remaining crownless, am stymied
By seeing so many coronations made
So much new headwear being sported
And it has too much stilled my pen
That the royal ranks are swollen so
The promises of past lives fulfilled
Kings and queens numbering far more than
Ever expected at once
And not to the benefit of the people
Now more than ever

20200419.0430

If it bears a crown, the thing we face,
It is of snakes that freeze in place
Those on whom it alights,
Holding some through dint of fright
While others range as they see fit
And think they will not fill a pit
Dug six feet deep and slightly more--
One of many, many score.

20200418.0430

It is a shallower pool into which I dive than I would prefer
But I have to take the risk of the broken leg
Or neck
Because if I stand where I am
The fires are sure to consume me
And even in shallow waters draining away
I have a better chance than otherwise

20200417.0430

The little robber stared at me when I pulled into work today
Mask over its unblinking eyes and hands almost clasped together
Not quite an attitude of prayer, but I am no god
How long it will remain there, between prostrate and supine
I do not know; I am no god
And I was uncomfortable with its devotions

20200416.0430

No short sprint may drain so much
As the longer race that I would seek to run
But several sprints in succession serve
As a pulled plug at the bottom of a basin
Already far from full enough

20200415.0430

A glimpse of brilliant robes in many colors
Making the mythical Joseph drab and plain
As much as the eye can hold as they drape
Across the pale swellings and bushy valleys
Where bending wood stands as stern as
Blowing will let it
And are peeled away in favor of the empty sky

20200414.0430

Shorter races attract more attention
They let more runners run
They let the audiences see a whole race
And move on
Imagining perhaps that they could do so well
Or once could have done so
While the longer runs exceed what a person easily sees
A span of a few meters shows more easily
Than a few miles or more
Receding off into the horizon even if on a straight line
And level field
And such a race never has it so easy as all of that

20200413.0430

Short sprints might well
Do well for the legs and lungs and heart
But I need to run a marathon more than
A mere few meters

20200412.0430

What Holt directed fills the air
Coats the tongues of all who speak
And with the flow of spit that follows
Passes deep into the belly where
It festers
Coming again as rising bile
And spraying out in putrefying chunks that
Stick and stink and spread themselves
And few can look away despite
How their stomachs turn

20200411.0430

I bear an anvil upon my shoulders
One that has rung with the din of many hammers
Many times
And which has been warmed by bright fires nearby
And which has been used to bend strange metals into
Stranger shapes
Guessed at and implied in other works
But never realized until someone decided to fill the hole
And though the anvil does little work now
Perhaps a filigree now and again
Harmless and unhelpful decoration for a shelf that once strained under
The burden of too much knowledge in too small a field
I am loathe to lay it down
Where another's hammer might find it

20200410.0430

Not seldom have I drunk too much
Of beer, of whiskey, or of wine
And in the light of the next morning
Had cause to regret each drop
And sometimes I have drunk other draughts
Poured in water to chase out wine
And the spirits have accepted the offering
In whole or, more often, in part
But for what intoxicates me now
I know no way to avoid the coming hangover
But I know that if I stay drunk thereupon
I will suffer the more for it later

20200409.0430

A certain black thing spins and speeds along
Carrying with it cargo and companions
Making no motion; measure out what it is.

20200408.0430

The early flame burns hot and bright
Makes a bit of day in night
And can conduce to great delight
No less than to singed hand
But if the ember is to be
The wood cannot from fire flee
By glowing coal, we may not see
Much, but we are warmed thereby

20200407.0430

It is not seldom said
We'll look back at this and laugh
And I can only hope
We are around to do it in
That hoped-for then

20200406.0430

In the fraught and fevered heat of fear
Fever's fire that floated on the air
The fluid bonds that fettered folks
For some were boiled away
And they, like steam, leapt up and away
While others hardened
Baked by the burning and battering time
And some might well say the stone was the stronger
But the steam drives the engines that do so much work
Hardly can it well be called weak

20200405.0430

If I have been awarded laurels
I dare not rest upon them
My too-large ass would press out the oil
Fill the air with the pleasant scent of
Bay leaves
That make no marinade for the flesh I would offer
Crush things down until
They are far less of a cushion than
I need to ease me
I must earn more if
I am to keep at this sitting

20200404.0430 "Not Found"

20200403.0430

I am told I
Should not cheapen myself, but
I have not been able to
Make the sale
At the price I know ought to be paid
And even if I am on clearance
It's better than being left on the shelf and
Thrown away as shrink
Discontinued

20200402.0430 "Paperwork"

Spending years poring over pages
While others laughed and played
I thought that I would have a different outcome than they
And perhaps I did
But if they lament the hours they spend
Shuffling stacks culled from pulped trees
Squirrel-homes and bird-supports chopped and remixed
Made rhythms to which none dance
And grooves that are the antitheses of funk
How much more must I
Who started on them sooner?

20200401.0430

I do not mean to fool around
Right now, while evil still surrounds
Us all. I will not place the trap
Atop the door or stretch a flap
Of film across the toilet seat;
I will not those old jokes repeat
That serve to harm for the delight
Of those who think themselves aright
But who, if sitting starboard side,
Take all of us on an ill ride.
For what? So they can get a laugh
And mock the rest as mere riff-raff
And mock them more when they complain--
"It's just a joke" is the refrain,
Though when the joke's on them, they cry,
Lamenting ringing from the sky.
Their skins are thin who often tease;
They are much pained by mouth-made breeze.