poem

 Looking For It

I know what you’re all looking for

Even here you can find it

Please, take off your coat

I just put on a pot of coffee

Sit over there, by the fire

It will only be a minute.

I know, it isn’t what you expected

So modest and so close.
I was like you once—

Out there combing the earth for it,

Sifting life through screens 

Until you find a sliver of gold,

Or so I thought

Until noticing I’ve always

Only been right here.

I never left.

I was only collecting

Costumes and props.

We all have our turning point.

One morning I opened my eyes

Or maybe it was midnight

And I had fallen into a dream

But either way, there it was,

Just sitting here, the whole time. 

I don't want to say it was waiting for me

But it sure as hell didn't seem 

To have anywhere else to go.

For a moment I thought I would lose it,

Overthink it, try to possess it.

All the old habits hustling back

To ruin once again 

The grand old illusion 

Everyone secretly prays is real.

But all that had no power here.

It took me a while but eventually

I figured it out.

Here, I just do what I’m told.

A cog in the machine

Of a vast multinational conglomerate 

That just promoted me to “Boss”.

At the end of every day I’m called

Into the office and gently let go.

But they let me come back.

It’s so nice to have you here.
I never thought anyone else would show

I love you

Everything is so beautiful

Here.

Look, the coffee is done

Can I pour you a cup?

2/22/26

poem

 Mousetrap

All the world’s a stage

Step right up

And wait for your cue 

No one else can play your part 

The genius of the bard

Was not the plays about life

But to see life as the grand play 

Layered with other plays,

Plays within plays. Your life is one.

Even this is a scene

Me, right here, and whoever decides

To join, no matter where you are

In time. I’m performing now. Not to

Entertain you but because there’s 

Nothing else to do. This is all there is

And now I finally have someone’s attention. 

It’s a strange play

Scriptless but an infinite cast

To account for everyone you meet

Or hope to or never will.

We all get roles but no rehearsals. 

You’ll have to forgive the ragged edges

My lines are strictly improvisational

I have no idea what happens next

I used to steal swaths of text

From scripts written long after the fact

But this is different. This is now. 

I mean it this time. You have to suspend 

Your disbelief, ignore the dusty

Curtains and cheap props

And the exit door in back 

And the janitor leaning against his mop.

I feel naked here but you probably 

Think it’s only a costume.

No, it really is me. I’m trying to be serious

This time. Please don’t be angry.

I know how much you spent 

On tickets. But I assure you

I’m doing the best I can.

I promise I’ll make it worth it.

Rather late in life I learned the secret

Of the stage—

When all else fails just tell the truth.

People know it when they hear it

And ours, they’re never heard before.

2/22/26

poem

 Annual Exam

I see a doctor who wears a black

Robe instead of a white coat 

Like a 19th century circuit judge 

Arriving by horseback after midnight

Just to hear my case 

I’m swept into his chambers 

And asked a series of questions

I’ve always been afraid to answer.

I do my best to explain myself,

Appealing to his sense of fairness

But time is not just.

By the end of the interrogation my head 

Is in the heels of my hands 

As he quietly finishes up his notes.

We’ve come to the part where

He renders an appropriate sentence,

For my guilt was never in question.

Think of this as penance, he says. 

Then he says: 

Take two of these, with water, every morning

5 Hail Marys

41 lashings

8 inches of clay

10 acres of rye 

Root of amnesia

3 ampules of perseveration

A pinch of wry sanguinity

3 laps around the perimeter of your make believe cage

A vial of broken ego

A 16 gauge needle sunk into the depths of your ass 

Another day, come to pass

A list of things you never got to do

In a plane, under a truck, by boat

An amphora of sweat

Half a carafe of making yourself laugh 

12 minutes to memorize this list

6 seconds to kiss

A suppository of dissolvable doubt

One last thought

Quickly, now

Time is running out

2/22/26

poem

 Mystery

Love is mystery

Not the kind you’re

Supposed to solve

There is no crime

Nothing’s been stolen

Everyone is still alive 

A poem is only a clue

Find as many as you can—

They all lead back to you

2/15/26

poem

 Love Is

Love is only infinite 

If you give it all away

Whatever you cling to

Stifles the flow

The most you can have

Is all you can hold

Better to be 

A hole in the wall

It rushes

Right through you

2/15/26

poem

 The Undefined

Death is dividing by zero

Life is one over infinity

But first you must learn to count

Start with your fingers, an abacus,

Piles of stones.

Patterns emerge:

Base ten, even and odd

Over and over again.

Soon you’ll be ready

For the higher maths.

Prepare yourself!

It’s like nothing  

You’ve ever seen before.

On the final exam

You have to prove that zero

Is the midpoint of infinity

And whatever you score, of course,

Goes on your permanent record.

Soon and then later, a new math is emerging 

Where you’re a tiny 

But very important variable

Etched in chalk on a giant blackboard

Teeming with inscrutable equations

Whose solutions can only be seen

By someone standing far enough away

2/11/26

poem

 Legacy

Leather bound journals filled with words

Line the shelves of humanity

Everyone has to write

You can jot down whatever you like

Some entries are drab lists

Of whatever you did that day

Many are written with a loveless passion

Like the first gasps of air 

After a near drowning 

Many are entirely dishonest

But can’t exactly be called lies.

A few apologize, deeply, from the heart

Some swirl around the edges 

Of a hollow point that swallows all sentences.

Many are incoherent drivel best 

Ripped out, crumpled and tossed

But then you flip to a page where it all changes—

You fall in love with life

As if it were your own

Suddenly, definitions seem smitten

With their referent terms

Somebody says poetry!, pointing,

But you never see what they saw 

You point at her pointing, and say

Poetry! leaving your own void on the world

For no one to really see.

Then it’s a series of yesses and amens

Followed by a broken matrix

Of epiphanies and prophecies, and primitive

Sketches of what might be a real philosophy.

You see yourself on the stern of a riverboat

Waving at you as you watch your own life float by

It’s already been bookmarked for posterity

And you’re late to the party

By the time you get there 

It’s just another white sheet

Someone will have to smudge.

Every so often the handwriting changes

And it takes a page or two to get used to it 

Eventually, as is often the case, form asserts

Its dominance over sound or maybe 

It’s the other way around and the only

Thing that never changes is meaning.

By the time you’re done you have to rush

To scribble a couple of lines or maybe just one

Open-ended, unfinished, wandering clause.

Your last act is to try to erase.

Nowadays, kids are on to the ruse

There’s nothing left to say!, they say.

They see those boxes of brand new journals 

Every last bit of it, all made up!

Just waiting for the next sucker to fill

Boring! Stupid! Unnecessarily cruel!

Out of respect for their elders

Every boy and girl now dares 

To leave it blank.

2/11/26