Lesser evils pile 

up like buffalo skulls so

high they block the sun

 Your guns won't save you

from death since we all die in

the end, without fail 

They stare at fading 

faces in photos so old

they can't recall names

Kill the messengers

but word still leaks out for the

truth can't be murdered 

The boat cannot right 

itself unless we begin 

to meet amidship

The tulip's petals 

dropped off one by one like lost

hours in the day

Fling your cares out of

the car window and watch them 

disappear in dust 

 

Click refresh again 

and again like Las Vegas 

junky slot machines 

In the backyard, rats

pushed out the chipmunks who had

evicted the voles 

Spriraling thoughts 

against springtime backdrops

make discordent days

There is a fine line 

between self-deprecation

and self-loathing, friend 

The immense joy that

surrounds possessions will not

sustain itself long

Existential dread

lying in bed reminds me

of our final end 

Tip your hat to fate

and be sure to have a tip

for Charon to cross 

Dark clouds squat on top

of the mountain peaks hiding

their hard visages

Through darkened windows

crickets whisper songs of lust

til dawn birds annul 

The sun blazes down 

on a bandit's bleached grave 

felled by a friend's bullet  

I thought she was just 

bitter, but it turns out she

had been betrayed again 

Books tumble down onto

the floors with a million 

words as yet unread 

Words are slippery 

needing a steady hand lest 

they >>>get >>>>away          

                                        clean

A memory: my

brother and I woke that morn

to seek adventure 

Money and money 

and more money to feed the

ever-hungry beast 

At her desk in an

empty home, memories turned

into sustenance 

Smash open those stale

thoughts and reveal the juicy

insides, scrape it clean 

Let the world wear on 

for a few hours without you

while you watch, sidelined 

Reigning over us

their bombs rain down again from

a crystalline sky 

Pull at the frayed edge

of memory gently or

risk unwinding all 

 Even Jesus let 

his righteous indignation 

get the best of him 

Please don't mistake these 

strings of words thrown together 

for my inner life 

Outrage pays the bills 

these days; no matter which side

it is monetized