Thursday, October 25, 2018


The flapping tongue
who stands at the front of the room
before all the Emerson roving eyes
trembles through articulation
being careful not to salivate.


I’m sorry to make
you cry when I told
that joke about 

It seems so silly now,
like most things do.

Other words I have forgotten

(like pessimism when I
was defensive, riddles
that drove my audience crazy,
the sly comments I would make
to not-so-deftly avoid insult)

but I remember the lovely
smile that became tears.

That day, we shuffled on our
way, but seven years later
I have to reconsider.  I have 
to wonder what ever became
of the girl who was on the other
side of that jab.


I'm still a comic book guy,
even in my late thirties.  It
started when I was barely
an embyro, I'm sure.

I used to fill empty pages
of notebooks with squares,
then infuse those spaces
with badly drawn characters.

Since adulthood, it's still
about filling spaces.  Figuring
out the right images to 
include.  I wanted to be a
superhero.  I'm something else,
I think.

No costume here, but I still
read about those who are
brave enough to put them on.

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...