“Does it Need a Title?”, “Street Theatre,” “Literary Property,” and Other Poems

Does it Need a Title? There is nothing sadder than an old elephant at the zoo. All alone, the color of tarmac; a gigantic mouse behind bars. She…


“The Transgressionist,” “Girl in the Full Metal Jacket,” and “The Magician’s Assistant Throws Down on the Slut Shamers”

The Transgressionist Just before you've just about had enough of me--- poof. I'll be gone two days before you call me, three days before you call me…


“The Origin of You,” “Where I Live,” “Ringtails Are Not Solitary in Spring,” and Other Poems

The Origin of You From nebulae, stars are born each day, vast pools of matter coalescing in eddies, swirling themselves into existence from the…


“Internet Outlaw,” “Can’t Write Poetry,” “The Mortals Are My Playthings,” and “Wild West”

Internet Outlaw Robin Hood of the internet Whose name strikes fear Into the hearts of the secret-keepers--- The wind whispers, “Julian Assange” And…


“The Pursuit of Higher Education,” “No Number,” “The Covenant,” and “The Dead Old Poets Society”

The Pursuit of Higher Education He wrote well Not in great volumes But well, and worth reading Didn’t sell much, to places that paid Didn’t place a…


“Unholy Medicine,” “Sense Memory,” and “Two Dead Boys”

Unholy Medicine If Buddha had a cold would the eight-spoked wheel still start to turn? Would the diamond vehicle convey learned saints above the…


Nights in Shining Armor

A true story: The Baltimore Orioles had just beat the Red Sox in ten nail-biting baseball innings. But there were no joyful cheers that day. Instead…


“Worms” and “Our Ancestor Sir James”

Worms I saw a picture of a small, refugee girl in Bangladesh, her eyes wide and frightened as she peeks from under her mother's arm in the tent where…


“Rebuttal, Rebuked” and “Ode to Capital”

Rebuttal, Rebuked I am masculine and I am toxic Traits that you hate and you find caustic I am a playboy and I am a thief Into your heart I sink my…


“Faulkner’s Christmas,” “Indecent Calculations,” “Et Tu, Judy, Gwyneth, Barbra, and Meryl?,” and Other Poems

Faulkner's Christmas She hid in the bushes panting, emitting lustful grunts, waiting to be taken. Waiting for her black stud, Mr. Christmas, whose…