Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Road to Nowhere

Nothing indexes progress like road kill.
Creaking wagon wheels rarely caught

the possum mimicking his own demise.
Even the fleet hoofs of the lawman's

stallion failed to freeze the furred skunk
or his stench on dissolving plates

of Americana, but today my Civic's tires
cradled the indecision of a fleeing squirrel

and I surrendered to speed, the thought
of home, ham on rye at my kitchen counter.

Saturday, July 28, 2012


It’s only a matter of time
before percentages change.

The balance between dark
and light rides a sliding scale

What is unknown today
will be known tomorrow

or tomorrow or tomorrow
or tomorrow or tomorrow

Thinkers reckon the infinite
while darkness rests its head.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Inferred Perceptions

When Copernicus suggested the earth
         revolved around the sun
                  he disturbed the soil

at the base of the tree of understanding,
         nudged the roots interwoven
                  with the doctrines of the church.

Kepler enlarged this heliocentric garden
         while Galileo honed his tools,
                  sharpened the ax

that ground against the darkness
         church fathers thought
                  to be light.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012


Small delights in the dark matter
         of perception
                  satisfy our hunger
         for belief.

Small delights keep us
         on the brink
                  of hope,
         substance of faith.

We spoon sugar into teacups
         of anxiety
                  mugs of trauma,
         the thereness of life.

We drink deeply, taste
         the single percent
                  of understanding,
         the juice the apple yields.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012


Who understands more
         than a single percent
                  of what he believes?

Technology has left us sitting in our Model T Fords
wondering that a car can be started remotely.

We don't understand how our GPS really knows
where we're going or how to get us there.

Most of us are still wondering how the detergent
gets out of those little pods we throw in the washer.

We stroll through the supermarket without an inkling
of the intricacies of packaging, refrigeration, transit.

                  Belief flirts with convenience.
                           Faith beds naiveté
                                    while meaning merely winks.

Monday, July 23, 2012


Dark matter drifts between
            the yes
                        and the no

conflating the brink on which
            we struggle
                        to discover


Sunday, July 22, 2012

Was I inhaling for the first time?

When I sucked the nicotine
from the Kool deep
into my lungs aping the image
of that oh-so-sophisticated
Sigma Theta in her cashmere
cardigan, her Bass weejuns.

Or was it later walking
in the garden among the Rodin
sculptures in Paris, standing
before the actual Thinker
rather than the myriad
plaster fakes, cartoon
parodies of deep thought.

Perhaps, it was snorkeling
near the Hawaiian reef
where fish accept their
yellows, oranges, and blues
as ordinary, and swim on,
mindless of eyes enlarged
by plastic masks, bodies
redundant with excessive cells.

No, it had to be the morning
I woke in Zermatt, opened
my screen-less window
to see the Matterhorn, startlingly
near, startlingly clear
against blue sky and realized
the world held thousands
of places I could go
millions of things to see.

Saturday, July 21, 2012


Time before neon,
life before plastic
tossed us on
its conveyor belt,
our world slept
with daisies,
and angels.