October Poem 29:  A Stagnant Pool

A lid with straw floats

Against the weed and earth dam

Gathering the creek.


September Poem 9: The Foster Father Tango

What? Is that what you

Think? So are you just stupid

Or are you also



The situation too? It’s

A stare. She is in


The corner but still

Continuing to act out.

It’s a stare. Like the


One you give your wife

Before you beat her up. Or

Is it like the one


She gives you before

She punches you in the eye?

She has told me that


You are not a man.

She has told me that you lay

Curled in the fetal


Position and cry

Until she stops hitting you.

Do you want something


Damning, you dipshit?

Look at your daughter when you

Raise your voice. Did you


See that? Did you see

Her hunch? And the fear behind

The red eyed tears? Did


You see the way she

Acts out her emotional

Problems you inflict?


You didn’t. You just

Heard that I stare at her when

She misbehaves and


Threaten to give her

More time in the corner. And

You decide to call


Me a pervert. And

You expect to be believed

I guess you just don’t


Understand the motives

Of any adult human

Who won’t punch a child.

August Poem 10: Rise and Fade

They of the long death.

Those bringing the death carpet.

The sulfur people.


They are the strange ones.

Ash and bone and polished shards

Woven in fabric.


They wear their beliefs

Like the gathers of their lands

Taken from the earth.


Chanting they swing. Their

Noxious censors billowing.

Staining the skies black.


Stagnant as Latin,

Sattva Casetti was dead.

Eighty-four and smoke.


The chugging machine

Of subtextually.

Her birthday or near.


We experienced

Fulfilling of prophecy

Ending the Red Death.


Covering bodies

In ash and fragrant spices

That burn and consume.


Smokes that rise and fade

Lifting the spirit, the dead

Giving safe passage.