
The difference between
winners and losers. Winners
know how to palm cards
Taking what life throws at me one pitch at a time

The difference between
winners and losers. Winners
know how to palm cards
Feel a finger
Trace the seam of existence
Savor the recede
I've tried to avoid
Getting or giving a scar
Failed on the twain
playing in the yard
a row of peony bushes
bees buzzing the buds
Don't burden my tender estate with this knowledge
Phrazez that Payzez
"I'm a two legged animal sweating in my dead mother's bed" The Antidote by Karen Russell
it's all well and good
to arrive, but I'm more of
a journey person
One of my favorite memories is helping my father clean out the cesspool which was located next to the peony bushes.

My favorite place is nowhere and everywhere. Simultuneously. From an early age walking out my front door into the night. No destination. No goal. Deciding which way to go for a stroll around my neighborhood. Then the whole city at large. City streets lit first by dim street lights. Then by mercury vapor lamps. Eventually they even lit the alleyways. Shame , because alley’s had the best shadows. You could really tell a neighborhood by its alley. Just down the alley from home there was a cement and broken glass garden with windmills and bridges and houses and walls along the black cinder alleyway. A well kept garden. Cement and glass carefully smoothed. I had to go back there in the daytime just to take in the full wonder and be sure it was not a midnight phantasm. It was there. The glorious miles I covered as I branched out. The hours filled in silent reverie exploring the streets and alleys of my urban habitat. People sitting on their porches on hot summer nights. Some sleeping there too. I would quietly wander. No mischief. No malintent. Just Urban Hiking. Even through snow storms I’d hike on. These days it’s day hiking. Different insights. Shorter durations and milage. Grateful to be able to enjoy my nowheres and everywheres again after decades of that pleasure was taken away with every other step. I breathe in inspiration and breathe out expiration on my strolls through a wonderland that holds both urban, lake, and bucolic residential views whenever I can. Because I am the luckiest man in the world

chickens and the cost
of empire come home to
roost in the wreckage
malignant pallor
of festering hate wafts o'er
our once fertile plains
A site of lush warmth
Became a trigger sending
A chill up my spine
False
Evidence
Appearing
Real
Start small
Double down
Repeat early
Repeat often
Lie like a rug
Buy allegiance
Bourne of panic
False alarm
Fear solidifies
Then deliver the
Coup de grace
In the future our garbage will be their treasure
Our valuables will be the be bane of their existence.

seize that slimy fish
wrestle it onto your shore
a carp for the day
suture my succour
on humanities scapegoat
stop the bleeding now
I'm pointing to my attic because I know it's haunted ๐คฃ
When making a point
It was not polite to point
I was told when young
Whose road is it anyway?
where rubber neuro
meets utter linguistic road
keep your wallet closed
Finding joy in Catholic's new Pope for a late dear one.
She embraced her church deeply and sincerely.
She loved the city of Chicago.
Her astrological sign was Leo and she embraced those traits fiercely.
Basking in inter-universal shift.
Or was that drift?


Covered in times soot
This old coot don't scoot
As a geezer
I'm quite the wheezer
Not much of a pleaser
An occasional teaser
I think about this
I think about that
Now I wonder
Is the past tense of scoot
Scat
Lounging lackadaisically
On my perception cloud
Proximity alert triggers
Furtively I reach out
Fingers trace the Objet de Arte
To become my Objet de Desir
Another example of humans humaning.
Just great big bundles of cognitive dissonance.
Paradise in peril?
Let them stew in their own nest.
It's their cauldron now.
Try me a river.
I'll try a river for you.
When no try. No do.
Phrazez that Payzez
People without boundaries
"I'm cold, so you should put on a sweater."
Abby's mom. Ordinary Unhappiness Podcast.
She has taken her light
Into that night
That never will spawn
Another dawn
That one melody
Has become your #elegy
Mourning medley
Misunderstood bugs
Antediluvian ants
And what they hath wrought
Things my Uncle George did with
My Aunty Diluvian
Oh she was special
Deb, the office revolver
Snub nose thirty eights
We'd pull our triggers slowly
On our late night office dates
Icy relations
Best to thaw with a candle
Than a flame thrower


Considering how long life has been scuttling around on this heap of magma, lava, smegma, and other solidified forms of said substances: I need to know after which flood do you inquire. So I wrote this tanka instead.
Misunderstood bugs
Antediluvian ants
And what they hath wrought
Things my Uncle George did with
My Auntie Diluvian
From flood plain to astral plane, trying to keep my head above water.
Just like ant
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