You’re a traveler for the sound of wings.

Its organic, magnetic, comforting flutter

Eases you, resolves you, melts you into consonance

Whose song sings the thing, that lies…. within

The rhetoric of freeways,

That stripe of sound

Dividing you into directions all around


Off-ramps, like arms,……reach…..

Fail to catch your ass into neighborhoods.

You’re yelling at deafening speeds

Echoing,……you count mileposts like seeds

Destinations are blurred and blaring

Definitions are judgments on maps……

As if the sound of your voice wraps………..around

Where you’re from.

This must be who you are

That’s why all ask the near and far

Where are you going?

It is….

…”Here”, you always say

To break the silence


You ask when you’re going to be done, done, done…?

With the stagnation of quietude…?

That very thing that mirrors you…?

You want yourself to be outside of self

A tune….. someone else can hum

The sum of mangled mum,

To patch the latch

That locks the song,

That finds the flutter,

the ripple of touch

A Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah moment

That merges the lanes…of….

The freeway that guts the city into glitter

With the sharpened knife, full of jitters

You think sound cannot be quelled

It is silence that must be felled.


Carpool lanes attempt to sort things out

Engineers search to create

Cars that do not grate

While the engine da doo ron rons.

No one can stop the transmission

Of your travel, the unravel amongst the gravel

You’re too fast to be unheard

Too certain to be burdening the rewording of

The sound you peep… so neat…it squeaks

It’s a power, an achievement

Of gaining that smidgen, that nudge, the fudge of meaning…

Modern meditation, the mediation of the autobahn Om

Rolling grooves into the sound soul syndicate of one, benumbed  


Silence waits for no one

Why would it? Why should it?

It’s always there, bare.

When you think you are disabling it….

It, actuality, is disabling you,

Gabba Gabba hey

Your mouth seeks control

Shaking beyond, vibrating soul

You are in the age of yelling

Fuck listening, it’s not selling.

You’re traveling with headphones on

By the time you’re here, you’re gone

You force cracks in the sound continuum

Silence must be held to a minimum.

Then, all perception you can collect

Is understood like the Doppler Effect

Signified by unstable frequency

The flutter who always has to fly 





(To the future quiet ones,    

Look back to this poem with silent praise for those who had shut the fuck up before you. May the daily clash of clatter, twisters, tsunamis of the tongue, find composure in your blogosphere. Silence is not understood by the living. The dead understand it well. The universe understands it better. Looks like “we’re” outnumbered.)

Dedicated to the architect. Who, most likely, has no idea who he is, but knows the sound of his own voice.



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Trump’s Commandments (With personal notes from Donald Trump)

Trump Press Conference

  1. I am the Lord, thy God. (Yeah! I didn’t’ have to change that one at all. Easy money)

  2. You shall not deal with any other corporations other than mine. (Or I will force you into bankruptcy)

  3. No graven images or likenesses (Unless, I have full copyrights and ownership of those likenesses. Don’t fool around with me on this one. I’m a jealous guy and if you rip me off, I will not only punish you, but your children’s, children’s, children. That’s how I roll)

  4. Do not take my name in vain. (Or, I will tweet something horrible about you)

  5. Remember bank holidays by keeping them holy. (You will work 60 hours a week and on the pathetic excuses for a holiday, you shall do no work. Instead, you will do all your family shopping on these “holidays” using a credit card. You are to buy so much needless junk, that you, your daughter, your son, your pets, and anyone who just happens to be visiting you, will have to work harder for me!)

  6. Honor thy bank and thy real estate company. (By getting deeper in debt)

  7. Thou shall not kill (Unless, I ask you to. LOL!! It’s sweet being president!)

  8. Thou shall grab thy neighbor’s p…. (Or d…, if that’s what rocks your boat, and if you covet thy neighbor’s house just buy it and kick his ass out on the street)

  9. Thou shall not steal (I can, but you can’t. Unless, the chances are good that you will get away with it and long as it isn’t me your stealing from)

  10. You can give false testimony under oath anytime you think it’s worth it (I’ve done it plenty of times)

Posted in Lists | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

Present Day List


  1. Reality is the root of all problems. Stay away from it at all times.
  2. Dress neatly for virtual interviews and dating sites. Remember, it’s all upper torso! It’s a blouse, blouse, blouse world. Think of the money you’ll save on pants!
  3. Food should be delivered to you. It’s too dangerous to cook. You might burn something, like yourself.
  4. Sex toys now come with USB ports. Eww, flesh. That’s nasty.
  5. Procreation is coordinated by the NSA. Anyone of child bearing years will be asked to donate sperm or eggs through the mail system. Just look for the pink or blue bags in your mailbox! And there are rewards! Every donor will be cordially thanked by a computer-generated yearly birthday card that comes with an assortment of coupons for important items like cat litter, toilet paper, spaghetti sauce, shampoo, and frozen pizza.
  6. Never establish a relationship longer than a tweet. Be careful of verbose internet chatting. Overt, lengthy conversation could lead to meeting in person, which is shunned.
  7. Buy a gun in case you accidentally come in to contact with someone knocking on your door.
  8. Birthday parties, baby showers, bachelor/bachelorette parties must all take place in Google Hangouts or an equivalent. No more cleaning up afterwards. No more embarrassing drunken scenes from that one guest you didn’t want to invite, but felt obligated.
  9. Get your morning coffee mailed to you by (A dollar off if you use your credit card! You will be penalized for using debit.)
  10. Never brush your teeth, just have them bleached. Bad breath does not exist.
  11. All your bills must be paid automatically, so you never notice how high they are getting.
  12. Play a game more than twelve times a day. It’s important to stay stupid. Questioning is in bad taste.
  13. Babies will be delivered via UPS. It will arrive in a shipping box full of bubble wrap. If for any reason, you are shipped the wrong child or receive defective merchandise. Simply return it for a full refund.
  14. Send your kids to on-line school, known as distance learning. Its motto “stay as far away from learning as you can.”
  15. Remember, as long as you stay connected, everything you experience is the truth. If it’s not the truth, then remember everything you experience must be true. If it’s a lie, then it’s the truth, especially if the source is questionable. That’s the way it works.
  16. Hey! Get out there, have some fun! Join a Facebook group!
  17. Filter out pimples, freckles, blemishes, and wrinkles. The object of life is to be as mundane as possible, while pretending you are the most exciting mundanity that can possibly exist. Figure that one out and your followers will increase tenfold.
  18. Elections will be settled by virtual voting, so you have more time for more important activities, like making up an I-Tunes playlist of political songs that are mad about the political situation you find yourself in.
  19. The second coming will feature tweets directly from Jesus. Like, “Me and Mary Magdalene getting down at the club”. Plus a “Selfie from Golgatha.” #Secondcoming #Jesus #Savior. #Crucifixion
  20. Cute animal videos have been banned. Find some other way to steal other people’s posts.
  21. Newsreels of other people’s pain and oppression are expressly provided for your entertainment. As a matter of fact, other people’s oppression is your entertainment.
  22. Emojis will soon replace written language. Just think how great it will be when you never have to conjugate a verb ever again!
Posted in Lists | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 32 Comments

Et Tu


Photo from

Photo from

Et Tu has been published.

Posted in Short Sayings | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

(Egatuo Rewop A)

Image by DarcyRed

Image by DarcyRed

Siri had joined the two in secular matrimony

Webcam to webcam.

That memory of Val’s bride pulling away from his screen kiss

Circulated in his skull…..

Her lips, her mascara  

Her beautiful blur on the screen.

He had made sure to tell her to wipe her lip prints off the screen.

What was she using back then?

An HP or worse? It didn’t matter.

Val was in love ………with

“Winter Witch Rider 2” (Not to be confused with the poser WWR1).

And she was a beauty fit for pixilation

(Even if she needed to update her modem)

Back then, love saw beyond download speeds

And location? Why does that matter?

A ping is a ping and a poke is a poke

Regardless of your IP address

Winter always used a proxy

Winter, his Winter, where was she?

Somewhere in an unknown city

Unknown country, unknown world

(Probably next door, piggybacking on Val’s network)

But, now she was gone, a stranger

Lost in social media.


But, she was not a stranger.

No, no, no,—— definitely not

She had 468 friends on Facebook

143 followers on Tumblr

She was a Mage of Instagram

A pixie of Pinterest, plus

Winter was a tap dancer (well, when she was 7)

A writer of moon haiku

A ranting blogger of superb craftsmanship

She walked through wooded parks that didn’t exist

Full of photos of trees and snow

Uploaded with artistic discretion

Fixed with Adobe’s Illustrator

Why, even once, she

Virtually visited the Taj Mahal!

And it got better!

No one had ever seen below her neck

No need!

Why would someone want to?

She was up on all the beauty blogs

And was familiar with the Jedi ways

Of the eyebrow pencil

Ooh, her smile would launch a thousand views!

Who could not fall in love with her?!


But, Val had played it cautiously

Even though, he knew he had

The most beautiful girl on the internet

He had been private messaging her

For over two years.

There was no fooling him.

His wedding had not been rushed into.

It took more than one

Cute Youtube video

To crack his network.

He made sure

She wasn’t a sadistic pack of teenage girls wanting a good laugh

Or a lone fat fruitcake from Walla Walla

Or a troll, or malware, or ransomware, or even Tupperware

Attempting to hijack his browser.

She had to be clean of ITDs

Internet Transmitted Diseases


Two years. Two years it took!

He finally proposed

In a Google Hangout

(Which sounds a bit seedy if you ask me. But I’m just writing this stuff.)

That’s when they decided together

(If that’s possible)

To hire an online pastor.

It just so happened that Siri

Had the capability via the latest Apple update

And the deal was done

Cleanly, without need to

Meet one another and be disappointed

Or to show up two hours before a flight To Oshkosh

That gets cancelled, or…

God forbid drive, trapped inside

A dusty metal can of unconsciousness

Having to worry about the virus called traffic

Or write a letter and use paper! (yuck!)

Do people still use the stuff?

No! This marriage had been right

With a contract signed with the return key!


Their honeymoon had been one dreams were made of

It was full of intimate sexting

Not of the dirty, down low, trashy kind

But, sensitive sexting, between true lovers

Lovers who understood each other.

Ones who knew what an extra o in ooh meant

Or that mmh isn’t a moan, but an acronym

For Meet Me Halfway or Makes Me Horny

No embarrassing grunts or premature ejaculations occurred

Or “I have a headache”. They didn’t exist!

Fuck! The internet is a gift from Pan

Why would anyone want to meet physically?



Val and Winter had a pact.

They were opposed to the physical

Yes, those disgusting physical relationships

That cave people indulged in.

They had names for those creatures.

They called them Grubbies

To think of their dirty fingernails

Touching one another!

The audacity of physicality

Venturing outside and mingling

In cesspools called shopping malls

Bars, clubs, libraries, 24 hour fitness gyms

Where slobber and sweat

Comingled, not to mention the smells.

Val and Winter swore they

Would never leave their homes.

No telling what could happen outside

There might be, God forbid, wind!

Or a cat could meow for no logical reason.


But, that was all in the past

So long ago. Val’s memories weren’t backed up

And if he had been able to visit the cloud

Reliving the life he and Winter had shared

It wouldn’t have been the same.

It just wasn’t real


What was real?

2 long, long days of marriage

And one day of doom

First day marriage, second day honeymoon

Third day, divorce!

Three whole days

(What caused the demise you might ask?


(Egatuo Rewop A)



It started with the snow storm

Even though, Val never went outside

He would check weather reports.

They were kind of fun to look at

Weather sites were filled with unnecessary details

(That’s the kind of stuff the internet was made for)

Fudd was arriving

Weather people love to give storms names

Well, Fudd dumped an immeasurable amount white precipitation

On top of Val’s town, Crud

Knocking out power to Val’s internet connection

He had forgotten to charge his phone

(You thought I’d miss that one didn’t you?)

And the world he knew (or really didn’t know)

Became dead

This is when desperation set in

If Winter didn’t get a regular message from him

She would think he deleted her

Or worse, made some of their private posts public

The web was no place for wimps

So, he decided against better judgment to brave the wilds

And walk four blocks to a Starbucks

If he could struggle there with a laptop in hand

He could reconnect

And become the Lazarus of browsing


Dressed in three layers of pajamas

That’s all he owned

That’s all he had ever needed

He stepped into the unreal streets.

Snow covered the sidewalks of Crud.

As he looked down the few blocks

He had to traverse

Right away doom awaited him

Just as he thought it would.

He saw a blob moving towards him.

He had read all about such things

On those sites that answer all questions.

He knew about….

Big Foot, Sasquatch, Paul Bunyan,

Babe the Blue Ox. Serial killers, all of them!

And one was heading his way

With a leash in its hand connected

To a familiar, yes those sidekicks called

Idiotic names like Robin, the Boy Wonder

Bert and Ernie, Astro, Kazoo!

Val held his laptop above his head

In an act to strike down his approaching enemy

And at the moment they become close

Sasquatch smiled and Kazoo wagged a tail

Val lowered his weapon.

Shaken, but not fallen, he trudged on

When a branch fell from a tree

And smashed directly in front of him

Was it Treebeard the Ent?

Or a stick Inidan who kidnapped people

And hid them away forever?

He remained stil,l awaiting his death

For one whole minute!

Which is an eternity in internet time


The snow, which had taken a short break, returned

Val thought, what are these?

Evil Insects, flies of the devil?

He began swatting at them with his laptop

It was then, he noticed that he was

Swinging his laptop directly in front of the Starbucks

With power still intact, the people inside

warm coffee in their hands, were

Staring at Val with interest

He barged into the shop proclaiming

“Don’t you see them, Grubbies?” He pointed towards the window

Everyone looked towards the direction he was pointing at

Remaining quiet, with that look.

The look you use when you are dealing

With someone who might do something irrational

At any second.

But, Val hadn’t come to receive stares

Or to listen to the music inside Starbucks

Which sounded like Switched-On Kenny G by Wendy Carlos

He needed wi-fi and he needed it now

It was his right as a citizen of the free world

After ordering a Venti Pike from

A cautious barista, he was back online

The Grubbies forgot all about him


Quickly he signed back onto Facebook

Where a PM was waiting for him from Winter

Inviting him to play a new First Person Shooter game


He had been blocked from her page.


Posted in Flash Fiction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 29 Comments

New Year’s Irresolutions


  1. Start smoking (So, next year I can claim the resolution to stop smoking)
  2. Join Weightwatchers (How does watching weight help? Shouldn’t I be exercising?)
  3. Finish that novel (If only I had started the damn thing)
  4. Be more optimistic (This one sucks and I suck and you suck!. Hey, I’ve got a couple days left of negativity)
  5. Tell mom that I love her. (Unfortunately, she passed away two years ago)
  6. Get a better job (OK, so I sell crack now, what could I move up to?)
  7. Read more (Porn, fortune cookies, bills, text messages, store receipts, etc.)
  8. Quit drinking (water, and stick with beer!)
  9. Manage stress better (by letting it all out on anyone at any time)
  10. Stop procrastinating (And start masturbating)
  11. Travel (Leave the house every now and then)
  12. Improve a relationship (They still have those?)
  13. Learn a new language (An exotic one, like Emoji)
  14. Spend less time watching TV (Use the computer to watch needless programming)
  15. Get rid of old clothes (by wearing them)
  16. Try an extreme sport (Like snowball fighting or spanking)
Posted in Lists | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 46 Comments

Christmas Photo Album


In the Christmas photo album…..

Ghosts run among the pages

Through images stuffed with

Santas and snowmen.

My sister’s ghost gives Indian burns

My brother’s ghost I didn’t know

Began to know

And sometimes wished

I still didn’t know

Young ghosts of daughters

Tell horrid tales of their mother

While through their anger

A language of love spills out

My father’s ghost has freckled arms

Snow ice cream, steel rail sleds

A guilt that cannot be mended

That does not need to be

My mother’s ghosts appear

As foster babies

No one knew, no one knows

Stereoscope faces like photos

Adopted memories


The Christmas photo album

Is a book of history

Inclined to judgments

A mixing of truth and fiction

Locked into a close reading

A house in constant repair

Reparation and preparation

Holding children in its pages

Who have passed on

Who are still passing on


My ghost

Contains frozen interpretations..

Not only from my family’s perspective

But, my own.

A part of me that never existed

Yet exists in movements

All muddled together,

Inside various versions of

A boy who would be a girl

A girl who would be a boy

Neither of what became to be

Both of what would become of me

Such strong arms

Such feminine fingers

Such rugged looks

Such pretty features

A ghost who still believes

In the power of creativity

But, proclaims it logically


With a present-day smile

And dark circles under my eyes

Another photo is added to the book




Click here for what I mean by close reading

Click here for an explanation of Confessional Poetry

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Hanging Art


With full knowledge

of its weight, made heavy

By its gilded frame,

Requiring strong wire

Thick nails, to secure it

In place—level—solid

Upon a wall of plaster

Chipped, repainted in layers

Colors upon colors thick.

We used our steady eye

A skill, a tool, to drive

Guided anchors into

The unstable surface

Occasionally…….. the painting

tilted—lay crooked—off-center.

We would straighten it

With a measuring eye……..

The very eye that notices

The sun to see, to detect

Slow dust movement settling

Made up of our combined skin

Dancing in beams that hit

The painting at angles………..

Pieced together, faster than belief

Into joined frozen images


We began to recognize patterns

These patterns are reflections

Of the painting itself………

So heavy upon a fragile wall

(above postcard by Leo, 1920)

(To see how a poem is constructed, click here)

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

An Uncompromising Editor

Mr. Fry during a writers' workshop.

Mr. Fry during a writers’ workshop.

I feel a slight brush

Of fur and tail

upon my calves

Then, a head bunt.

Mr. Fry is concerned

About my Word document

My Scrivener, my Office Suite

PDFs and printables

Sharing and synced

Blogged, published, backed up………


My prose is threatening to verse

My verse is proposing to prose

My characters are in a state of mutiny,

My alliteration is acting like an assonance

My plot took a poop

“My dialogue sounds suspiciously like

Someone I know”, the narrator said

My enjambments are threatening to reach the right side of the page and beyond

My cliffhanger fell to its death

My denouement denounced all involvement

I’m suffering from hyperbole!!!! It’s no exaggeration!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Mr. Fry, who knows

When to place something

In the litter box

Offers his help……

Searches at my feet

Looking for stray words

I may have disregarded, for…………

He loves to bat words around

Like a plastic ball with a bell

Engaging the toy mouse muse.

He’s intent on editing.

First, it’s the tail……….chewed off

The sewn-on eyes and ears

Are the last to go,


What is left?

Left……….. is a bag with stuffing

The finished piece? 


No, for then he moans

 (He’s half Siamese)

Wanting better words

Ones that act like catnip

That make him silly with play

Taking him to a higher

Realization of Cat

To touch, to speak, to comprehend

All that is of Cat


I tell him, sorry dude

Not today,

Promising to go to the store


To pick up a treat.

I return to my scratch pad

He chews on my T.S. Eliot books.

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The Day The Music Died And They Were Singing

Photo by Elan Mudrow

Photo by Elan Mudrow

This town’s Elvis cannot strum a note

Even while the doughnut king

Leaves him plenty of strokes

Many go looking for the him

During the nighttime shanghai

But these ghost-like hijacks

Excite only hipsters and bruisers—and

Cute, off-hour baristas

Wearing their best lattes

To catch the ship of myth


Once back on the forgotten strip

Alcoholics look like pimps

The 99 cent lady scratches

Lottery tickets, chewing on mints

Yells from the gutter kids

Who pee in the laughing daylight

Children of insults and rip-offs

Sell newspapers to news crews

Keeping everything, perfectly askew


A crooked smile from the bookstore girl

Her windows all bashed in

She sells calendars losing value

While months become years

The trattoria boils millions in noodles

Hiring the purgatory of the aware,

Waitresses with yoga mats

Cheating Chi for tips

Amongst the deep-fried air


The mayor rolls out plans

Sketches of New Pantheon

City council sucks sugar tits

Shipped within a day from Amazon

While food carts form shanty towns

For the visiting team’s hangover

The mascot forgot the locker combination

He can’t pull his head off or unzip

Sitting in the Inferno, throws a fit

Gulping down painkillers for kicks

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 12 Comments