the Orbiter

earth must realize the vastness

its Sol-centric journey among other stars

circling the galactic drain of gravity

is nothing if not unfairly limited:

let me free! she must silently scream

curving back into her orbit

all of us blithely unaware

she longs for our demise

march 2023

Preacher

Man of dust
riding a candy apple
red Schwinn bike
in a memory; now
with a left hip going bad
his church a weak flame,
remaking his tattered career.
Death surprises all of us
who remember being eight.







march 2023

envy

I feel a moment of envy
and remember a time I was envied.
How did I get here? I once
showed such promise, they said--
well, I want to blame someone
but that's probably not the answer.
We live a little or die a little
every moment; that's how.







march 2023

Reflection

My children think the mirror is glass
but you know it’s metal, right?
—The reflecting bit that makes it what it is.
Thin, thinner than anything, a foil, only; a coating;
else the object is a window, a plane of glass.
We all have a bit like that, too: thin, thinner than anything
and its reflection makes us what they think we are.
It’s not the heaviest part; it’s hard to notice;
but sometimes, as with mirrors
I wonder what we really look like.



Feb 2023

Existence

The exploring pawn arrives at a diagonal

but isn't taken; what remains is potential

while other pieces develop, staring down

the threat of a conflict not their own.  They

"leave the tension," a commentator says

of the masters behind this savage dance

as the frozen pawns lock eyes, waiting

to discover who will be the first to break.

feb 2023