Tuesday, September 23, 2025

JUDGEMENT DAY

To help make sense 
of eternity's math 
equation, let 

the afterlife 
be equal to 

endless equivocation. 

*

The real first sacred mystery 
is that, after the creation, 

god would find himself 
of several minds 

about seeing his image 
in the mirror again. 

*

After listening 
to their speeches 
and sermons for so long, 

they start to sound less
like accusations 

and more like 
clever loopholes 
or contextual breeches:

in heaven 
you'll be surrounded 
by familiar faces—

the only difference 
in hell is you'll see them 
in bewilderingly 

unfamiliar situations 
and places.


Monday, September 22, 2025

NO MATCH FOR MY INTRANSIGENCE

How could I be 
like the sea? 
When I'm angry, 

do I grow, at once, both 
overlarge and hungry; 

Do I heavy myself
ceaseless at the grungy 
rocks of reason, 

then blot candor's sky 
with the foam of my fury, 

withering grace 
with briny excoriations  
at the rational edge

of each shore 
where I go? 

How could I be 
like the sea, I repeat
and demand 

that you answer me—though 
I don't want to know.


Friday, September 19, 2025

THE REAL CONVERGENCE OF THE TWAIN

By September, flecks 
of jaundice-yellow 

marble the once brassy 
green of leaves. So it seems 

the need to mix 
frivolity and grief—

to kiss Aurora wide-awake 
and Snow White deep-asleep—

was never the province 
of men and women 

in the street's worst 
thoughts and machinations.

The stimulus 
is ductless, 

wireless, general;
the response,

decided from the start. 
Agony is the blood 

in the heart 
of every child of levity. 


Thursday, September 18, 2025

THAT'S ENTERTAINMENT

Could it be 
that your thoughts—

just like
individual pigeons—

simply take pleasure 
in glomming together, 

swooping 
in formation 

over life's roofs 
and branches—then 

fracturing again 
at the slam 

of a car door, or 
the odd boom 

of thunder, or 
the approach of another 

creature who is lost 
in just such a musing? 

At first, the observation 
is a little confusing; 

then suddenly, all this
retreating and reforming 

starts to seem 
more like 

an endgame 
than a metaphor.

You're not sure 
what it is, but 

there's probably 
a lesson here.


Wednesday, September 17, 2025

LOVECRAFTIAN

It's almost unreal—
how, after a particularly 
horrific showing,

we obsessively 
ravage ourselves—
conjuring the dead 

and plumbing 
the unsympathetic
depths of the encounter—

until 
we've impossibly 
managed to dredge up

some unholy. 
tentacle-dragging, 
irrefutable cause 

who's black 
hole and absolute-
zero existence,

as evinced 
by the uncategorical 
engorgement of our dread,

we'll never 
forget, but were 
better off not knowing. 



Tuesday, September 16, 2025

THERE ARE OTHER WORLDS THAN THESE

To the sparrow 
who must have got caught 
in the grill 

of this brand new,
fully-loaded, 
midnight black Camry:

who'll speak for you now 
as the flies close in?
I suppose 

that I will—though only 
through roundabout 
questions, I'm afraid, 

whose answers can be 
felt, but they can't 
be explained. 

For instance—how  
in the world do things stay 
where we put them? 

And—is God the you
that watches you 
from deep inside your head? 

Was anything sacred 
before that word 
was invented? 

And, if nothing at all,
does that mean
everything, then? 

Monday, September 15, 2025

GOD'S EYE VIEW

It doesn't really matter 
how closely you hover—

those thick darkened riffs 
of parkland clover,

all silky with glissandi 
of tuneful morning dew, 

cannot change your 
luck for you. It's true,

that byzantine bead structure 
is a Morse code of water 

which spells the whole story 
and moral of your future—

but in order to read it
or hear how it's singing, 

you'd have to have already 
known everything.