past past present (20161222)

these ghosts hover
like the shimmer
of christmas booze
over a dickensian pudding

[so many dead
–the poet said]

no one waited until spring
no thaw
and frost flowers
blossomed from gravesite earth

poinsettia and holly berry
heart color bright for the season
pleasing to view
poison to taste
divided by a pair of aces and nines
yet in my dreams
always together
striving

Poem 20151210

it wasn’t the end
but it was an ending

a significant pause
that turned into
a significant silence

no return to
the easily constructed
papier-mâché future

whimsical joy-filled towers
poorly engineered
made of something thinner than tissue

the first rains damaged them
the last rains
tore them apart

beautiful even in
wet, sodden disrepair

Poem 20150809

it isn’t as if
the future
–any of the potential futures–
depended on where
i placed the comma
or broke

the line

no wormhole opened up
when i changed a word
no future me or alternate reality me
stepped out
buffed up beyond belief
wearing an eyepatch
with a thin scar running
under it
from forehead to chin

to warn me
–not that metaphor
or
–why not a traditional meter

like i would have listened

i don’t owe them shit

let the future worlds
and alternate worlds
take their chances with my words

i take my chances with them
every time i type