A Void Dance

The withering hands of time

The airplanes tread water in moon-river sky,
We’ve looked long enough, leap! Opportunity knocks:
We have driven away our social mores.
Her parked car serves as a stereo box
And the sounds envelope our wintered pores
As the blush of embarrassment settles like rocks
In the sands of time swirling on Jordan’s shores;
Soft trees whisper backwards like grandfather clocks
Rewound and set swinging in pendulous sigh.

The Commute

ERK Who does that anyway

You know that time when we were MY COWS talking
and YELLOW CAR you kept playing car games
that involved PADIDDLE shouting random blurtable
phrases?  That was mildly BLUE CONVERTIBLE
yet also slightly ONE EXTRA WORM entertaining.

D/M pression

He closed his eyes and saw–
She had a hole in her chest
Where her leaden heart had grown too heavy
For the iron bars that tried to cage it in;
She had cotton in her mouth
Muffling her cries for help,
Making her feel voiceless;
She was thinner
Than a fat-free thin mint bitten in half,
Making her feel invisible.

Disco Discourse

Disco Fever

The lights are out, the music’s loud
The dance melee begins
Some sway small in bashful bouts
Others take it on the chin.

Read If Ine


And if you think that a man is women and widgets
Then your brain’s got a fuse as short as a midget
So, blow the house down and everything with it
Just to prove that you’re in control
Just to prove you’re in control.


And We're Off

Packing my bags, I’m not ready to go
My shirts are all wrinkled like a face that’s so old
The time flying over like geese for the south
And too soon Goodbye leaves my gaping mouth
Making way for more words: small words, small talk
I sit in the car as eyes follow the chalk-
White lines that dash down vociferous road
I cover my ears as the miles explode.

For: dversepoets.com

Carving Writer’s Block

Coarse sandpaper thoughts
Rub raw within the confines–
Desert of my mind.

Desert Storm

For: http://haiku-heights.blogspot.com/

Green Friday

While the hordes took to the urban sprawl,
Suburban war-zones and dangerous mall,
We fled to the country, a rural retreat–
Down back roads and dirt-paved street;
We stopped at a rustic wooded farm
And left with pine in supersacerdotal arm.

A Bushel and a Peck

A Slice of Praise

The Branch of the Lord

There is one God everlasting,
His love endures forever
And all blessings come from Him:

Word Problem

The cold wood floor requires socks,
The seedy city requires cops,
The circles blur and start to wiggle:
Venn diagrams of wife and wriggle–
The calculator stops.
Humpty Dumpty

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