Wednesday, September 30, 2020
20200930.0430
Swellings of breast and cock and clit
Claiming their faith inveighs against them
When the song of their wisest king of old
Says her breasts are like deer too young to hunt
And other verses speak in their holy text
Of donkey dick and horse cum
The Tijuana show of old in the temple book
Tuesday, September 29, 2020
20200929.0430
Kiss my lips and touch my heart
And lower still that longs for you
Until at last I can find rest
A second simulation of death tonight
Monday, September 28, 2020
20200928.0430
The center of attention
The center of affection
To address an affliction
The cure for which is
A sandwich or a
Sausage dinner
And tacos
Sunday, September 27, 2020
20200927.0430
To lament, if in silence, whenever you go
Away, even when I well know
You will back again?
Saturday, September 26, 2020
20200926.0430
To follow after Deor
Add another verse to the litany of pain
That bends back again to the hopeful refrain
Which in modern English may well be explained
"That passed away; so, too, may this"
And can see an ending?
Friday, September 25, 2020
20200925.0430
Hollow
Where voices normally rise up
In anger and in joy at once
While the drums beat and the horns call out
And perhaps they ply the field
But it is not the same
Thursday, September 24, 2020
20200924.0430
Enfolded in soft blankets and draping sheets
Snuggled in and warm
But it is into you I'd rather slip
And you I'd rather have surround me
Even if you do snore after
Wednesday, September 23, 2020
20200923.0430
And it may be that they break
Their fibers separating before yours do
But it is certain you will feel their marks
Whether you make an escape or not
And the not is more likely with the knot that catches you now
Tuesday, September 22, 2020
20200922.0430
The things it treats, how it often hides
Its meaning by presenting stranger sides
Than commonly are seen and rides
Out in stranger gallops that betide
A drunken horse. Denied
Their easy access, they deride
Verse art and do not look inside
Themselves to see where they are tied
With hitching knots and left alone.
Monday, September 21, 2020
Sunday, September 20, 2020
20200920.0430
I cannot help but stiffly stand
And seek to answer the demand
That nature instills in me
No little death I seek to deal
Yet still the longing thence I feel
Although I cannot well repeal
The act that almost twins me
Saturday, September 19, 2020
20200919.0430
Swaying with the winds of coming autumn
And new buds arise to join them now
While their tenders bustle about
All unsure what they should do and fretting
When the answer is to let them grow
The master gardener will prune away what needs it
And shape the growth to best effect
When it is time to put on the show
Friday, September 18, 2020
20200918.0430
Neither celibate
Neither yet in Avignon or Pisa
But likely sedevacantist
And claiming both
Inspiration divine and sovereignty
I will be their Luther if I must
Thursday, September 17, 2020
20200917.0430
But finds no bosom friend today
For as she comes in, she finds they
Are called to come in, go away,
And she alone sits on the swing
And climbs to slide, and each such thing,
Comes back again, begins to cling
To parents' sides, no more playing.
Wednesday, September 16, 2020
20200916.0430
The breeze blows
The child laughs
Her mother knows
The time is short
The darkness grows
The light recedes
The ugly shows
Tuesday, September 15, 2020
20200915.0430
Being spat upon does not make for the needed moisture
Unless it is from much higher up than those expectorating now
Or with a mouth far bigger
If such a thing can be imagined.
Monday, September 14, 2020
20200914.0430
No trace or hint of family or me,
But rest a while, and sleep, and let us flee
Who strive to never bear the knobby crown
That you have put on offer the world round
And that has, heavy, borne many heads down;
We seek no exaltation thus. We thought
We might in time, by doing as we ought,
A swift escape effect, but we are caught
As mice or birds before the watchful eye
Of staring snake, of hawk up in the sky,
And if we move, our lives we may belie.
But still, we may the vulture yet attract;
Who stands between the two is painful, wracked.
Sunday, September 13, 2020
20200913.0430
That Stupid God sent, the citrus affliction
Painted but poorly and draped just as well,
Horse's ass standing as if centaur's front,
Their golden calf cult-focus, heeding no flame,
No wrath from on high, avenging angel,
But think themselves blessed to have such a one
Standing among the and raving as fevered,
All a-twitter and at all hours
While blood flows in the streets not ending blue lives;
They would play in the puddles and think themselves pure
Saturday, September 12, 2020
20200912.0430
The sentinel that solemnly stands
Working, warding off the worst
Bends and bares its burden to
Steerers of stink that stalk the roads
Hoping to heave it heavily up
And call out again what was fed to it
Friday, September 11, 2020
20200911.0430
It has been nineteen years.
The wounds have still not healed
But many scars show pale and bunched
And every movement still pulls at them
Reminders for those who remember to pay attention
Of whom there are fewer each day
While for more this is
The way it's always been
There is no nostalgic hope
For those who have known nothing else
For those who had it, looked, and saw
For those who saw it closest
Things have changed
Yes
And they have been made to change
As ever has been the case
As ever will be the case
But are they better?
Thursday, September 10, 2020
20200910.0430
But I still work to race ahead in each
Because I know there are days that
Any run is out of my reach
Wednesday, September 9, 2020
20200909.0430
Seeking ever-lower floors
But they are silent, lonely stairwells
That useful time abhors
Tuesday, September 8, 2020
20200908.0430
If enough of them are taken together,
They will fill the belly
But they will not well
As will a meal meant as a meal
And served at once or in its courses
Made to be together
Sometimes, of course,
Taking what can be gotten is all,
But that's never the ideal
And better ideas are there to be found
Monday, September 7, 2020
20200907.0430
At this point in my life, I am management. I direct a treatment facility; I do not provide treatment, myself (which is good, because I am in no way qualified to do so). But I have still been a worker for more of my life than I have been a manager, and I remain appreciative of what organized labor has done for me, both directly in the days when I was a union man and indirectly in the social changes it has effected.
The work, of course, is far from done. There are still massive inequities that need to be addressed and that are not being addressed by as many of my peers--and I suppose it's a loose use of the term; I'm not exactly a luminary in directing the small non-profit I direct--as needs to be. Even if there were more managers and administrators working to improve things in the ways they need to be improved, making lasting changes of the kind that are needed has to have a broad buy-in--and that kind of buy-in has come from the labor to which some small lip-service is paid today.
I am well aware of the ideological onus under which organized labor operates anymore in much of the country. I can hardly live in the Texas Hill Country and be out among people and not be; it is decried and bemoaned in grocery store and gas station, and not only by those who would have to pay their employees more in a union system. But, unlike many who make the complaint, I have worked a union job--and while there were problems (as there are in any job; I've yet to meet anyone who didn't gripe about work), they were a damned lot easier to handle than many others I've faced, and I don't know that performance was any worse with them.
No, I think it was better.
Sunday, September 6, 2020
20200906.0430
Who have not gone so far,
But those who've had a journey long
Understandably are
Reluctant to begin again
And give up what they've had--
Even when what they have gotten
Served to make them sad
Saturday, September 5, 2020
Friday, September 4, 2020
20200904.0430
And other colors in abundance spray
But I do not know how to handle other dyes
Thursday, September 3, 2020
20200903.0430
Being heated as I am?
I have felt the hammer enough of late
And not because of quenching
Wednesday, September 2, 2020
20200902.0403
While the owl sits and stares in silence
Hunting for its prey and vomiting up
What it takes in
Does it envy smaller fliers their fellow-feathered flocking
As it sits, itself an omen
To which many turn in need and few in joy?
Tuesday, September 1, 2020
20200901.0430
Incanting such spells as can be said
And making mystic marks that send thought and power along
The rituals may offer no comfort
As the wisest lies dying
And their opposite numbers somehow survive