All We’ll Never Do

all the paintings we’ll never paint

all the pictures we’ll never take

all the books we’ll never read

all the movies we’ll never see

all the words we’ll never say

all the songs we’ll never hear

all the places we’ll never go

all the food we’ll never taste

all the friends we’ll never make

all the sex we’ll never have

all the things we’ll never know

all the joy we’ll never feel

all the pain we’ll never heal

all the novels and poems we’ll never write

makes everything we do

more sacred

An Interesting Bus Ride

i boarded the bus early that morning

coming off a grave shift

a prolonged evening

of stocking racks and

unloading trucks

prime of my youth

the stop was lonely

during those early hours

and i waited there


quite a long time


the shuttle arrived and

the long shuttered door collapsed upon itself

i proceeded to board

i passed the driver a glance of acknowledgement

nodding my head

signifying a quiet respect and gratitude

pacing to a seat

about halfway in

the bus heaved

exuding its presence

and i turned to face the window

hydraulics and mechanisms whirring

as he followed his route

routine stops

rounding the city


in a hard plastic chair

awaiting my destination

we continued on the path

finding a man

in his early to mid thirties


near one of the signs

he climbed aboard

and i glanced at him

noting a small beaded cherry of a mole

on his unkempt neck

he looked down the aisle

paused for a moment

then made his way towards me

at last taking a seat on the opposite side

i could tell something was unusual

his body language

was immediately frantic

scratching and fidgeting

tapping his foot at demon intervals

staccato sidelong glances from me

to the window

to the rear

to the front

nervously patting his head and

laughing to himself

at some point he struck up a conversation

the contents of which i cannot recall

i do recall


the intensity and discomfort of those remaining miles

he asked me where i lived

how much longer before i depart

touched me and continued

with that same

unsure laughter

his laughter turned

into a crescendo of barking

contorting his face

in a disquieting expression

causing the cherry to burn hotter

as his fair

yet splotchy skin

turned pink

the barking ceased

returning to nervous laughter

he resumed prodding

then unsheathed a knife

letting the interior lights of the bus


off its honed blade

he brandished it

invisible to the driver

beneath the obstructing barricade

of the preceding seat


i waited past my stop

making polite conversation

at last

breaking away

exiting three or four stops

down the road

he watched me

eyes tracing my steps toward that shuttered door

watched me as i descended those grimy steps

stared at me as i began to traipse down that sidewalk

to this day

i still remember looking back

seeing him glancing out that window

til the bus disappeared down the hilly road

i took the long way back

to a shared

tattered duplex

trekking streets i’d never seen before

wandering past morning joggers

quiet culdesacs

and chain link fences

with only the memory of

an interesting bus ride

Breakfast Blend

i brewed a carafe of coffee

french pressed

and piping hot

i kept the top removed from the kettle

then turned the corresponding dial

on the electric stove

i leaned upon the venting unit

and stared as the element changed

the sooty slate-like coloring erupted

emerging from faded ruby to

an angry maraschino

i stared


into that pot

listened as the metal strained

as the water burbled and popped

agitated and disturbed

by the vehement calefaction

i let the steam rise to my flesh

observed the bubbles frenetically emerging

dropping the grounds into the press

retrieving the kettle from the stove

evenly applying the scalding fluid

as a small almond head appeared atop

then set aside to bloom


stirring and preparing to steep

i poured the brew into the stainless mug

bending my neck to breathe in the breakfast blend melange of

citrus and brown sugar

i sipped

then gulped

then pounded back

poured another

kept at it til it hurt

felt pain in my chest

heart beating fast and hard

mind turning frantic

paranoia digging in sharp talons

dissolving my gut in acid

i didn’t feel tired the rest of the day

didn’t sleep that night

i made a new pot that next morning

Pioneer Spirits

pioneer spirits

take to the plains once more

you’ve stood your ground too long

seek out


unexplored avenues

scale hills and mountaintops

gaze upon a world spread out before you

taste the unknown

fruits of exploration

toss aside the compass of expectation

pursue the stars of your constellation

let your prairie soul roam free

blaze a trail of your own making

drink deep

the fresh water lakes of opportunity

take root

where your heart finds peace

Neon Souls

flashpan neon souls


the world

electric smiles



amidst the quiet




baring puffed chests in the presence

of deflated gasbags

and disapproving glares


in ecstasy

hot blood flushing their cheeks

blooming roses

in stone gardens



salted soil

screaming life

from the rafters of a deserted stage


to let the curtains be drawn

to be dragged

from the heat of the spotlight

preening blazing pink feathers


in defiance of the stifling mass


threshing commences

elegant flair of a flippant wrist

flailing upon delicate stalks of fruiting grain

beneath the sun is closing

growing dim in the dying days of warmth

drawing shades on another passing moment

greeting the moon

claustrophobic entombment of the granary

no malice

in this action

merely nature

unencumbered by passion or bias


unattached and clinical in approach