Just Another Spring Thunderstorm

Just Another Spring Thunderstorm
Our afternoons were undefined.
We 86’d
memories for a period.
I remember the tropical
depression of overdue doubt.
My oracle of origin
abducted my tomorrow, then
the subtraction of innocence
put agony in clarity.
Youth’s naïve confidence is
a river that must never dry up.


Fireside #11

You can call me


I have the energy to answer

the question to


current energy crisis.

My engine runs on the dark side

of the moon.

The place that no one on earth

has ever been.

In the shadows

everything is smooth.

No craters, crevices or cracks

to slow me down.

You won’t call me


I have to keep pushing ahead

for there are always

new answers to


past problems.

Keep orbiting debris

to stave off


Can you complete a puzzle

that is missing some

of the pieces?

Give me a surge

of your power

to last me

as I traverse

this lonely lunar landscape.

Fireside #6

They left the Biltmore Hotel in Greensboro

as the lights were just beginning to dim.

She clasped his right hand with her left

and they ran down the drizzling streets.

You have to give her credit where it is due.

She put it all on the table for a poet.

She put it all on the line for a fucking poet.

A poet that would not return her declaration

of love in the manner that she would have liked.

The digital speedometer went from 40 to 80 miles per hour

in no time flat

to indicate that

as emotions surged through his body

and the alcohol coursed through the blood,

he found the feelings evaporating

faster than the scotch.

He reminded himself that he was a poet.

A poet wearing this skin as a vehicle

until the next life or whatever lie ahead

he could not give in to the wrong one.