They gather at the

watering hole peaceably 

both hunter and prey  

In the harsh daylight 

the fractures can't be hidden

by beauty filters 

True artists convert

pain into paint, affliction 

into the sublime 

Armor up to face 

the world but gird yourself not 

in steel but in silk 

Kill your masters and 

smash your idols but always

stay true to yourself 

Your so-called struggles, 

she said from her dying land,

are mere nuisances 

The window, so long 

closed, wasn't an aperture 

but a barricade 

Dwindling light as the 

sun drops like diminishing 

sight at our life's end 

Spilled coffee and crumbs 

from a cake were all that was

left of their friendship

Making gumbo is

a kind of mediation 

with a divine end 

A light breeze ruffles

the sun-soaked leaves providing a

rhythm for bird song

Civility costs

nothing yet you fools act like 

it is onerous 

The ship at anchor

waits for passengers who will

 never come aboard

Boulders keep rolling

back but we push on as if 

gravity relents 

We use labels to

try to pin down the shifting

substance of being 

She used to collect

lovers but found true bliss with

glass miniatures 

We are covered in

the dust and detritus of

our lives and lovers

After the Bastille 

with no more royal heads to 

roll they turned inward 

Give me days so still

that the buzzing of bees is

thunderous, sublime.

I talk to old friends

with technology that didn't 

exist when we met 

You ask yourself what

will make you truly happy 

and come up empty. 

Pat answers to life's

unsolvable riddles only

deepen mysteries 

It's too late for this 

planet, she told her kids, but

maybe Mars will work 

The sand slipping through

the hourglass will begin

to worry you soon 

No time or a dime

to spare for the old man who

waves at passing cars 

A far-off ship's horn 

makes a plaintive sound, a lost

calf crying for mom

Hot dogs and beer and

fireworks that roar and spit helped

us forget the rest 

 Let the summer rain

wash away your sins or at 

least the pooling sweat 

The ghosts of loans past 

have interest not even 

God could hope to pay  

An entire life 

summed up in a few phrases

is all we end with

Pull back the curtain

and peek in the closet where

skeletons gather