poem

 Approx

Rounding down or rounding up?

What are the rules?

One the one hand it’s self-

Aggrandizing, getting phantom hits

And now there’s ghost runners on base.

On the other hand you’re corralling

Extra numbers in a box

Only to be erased.

Nobody wants to deal

With awkward situations.

I’m certainly not a whole number.

Nobody has ever remembered my name

Down to the last decimal point.

The more you know me 

The smaller I get.

Unfortunately, I’m not special.

I’m not irrational.

There is a final numeral that puts, 

At long last, the finishing touches

On my ultimate value.

And now I’m just realizing

It will only get rounded off.

5/17/26

poem

 Inside Us

There’s an anger inside us 
Seeking simply to be spoken.
A rage simmering under a heavy
Lid of learned repression
Now trapped in the silence of uncertain action
I would call it a peculiar kind of alienation
Only I’ve forgotten the object of our yearning
One day a strange man comes along speaking
Familiar words from the dead language 
In which we have become so fluent.
We sit and listen to his puzzling diatribe,
How the words have devolved to mere sounds
Purged of any grounded meaning
Like the way ancient coffins become empty again
Once the last bone turns to dust.
It’s a suicidal praxis that cuts the music
And everyone stops dancing.
Oh man! Who turned all the light on?

We were just getting good

At this new way of expressing

Everything we were always meant to say.

5/17/26

poem

 I Would Do Anything for You 

She took things into her own hands

Regarding our little mouse problem

I should have acted earlier

But I didn’t mind the little critters—

Soft and furtive and so very polite 

Never making an appearance 

Except for late at night or early morning and 

Not that I’m advocating 

For human/mouse cohabitation

For me it was like bacteria on my toothbrush—

Gross, but I can’t really see it 

And I’m not going to buy a new one everyday

But then she brought up certain practicalities—

The image of mice chewing through important wires

Behind the walls. If this happens, I could see her point. 

So she ordered a set of glue traps

And positioned them strategically

In key locations throughout the house 

I should have been paying attention 

She didn’t know this was cruel

She saw the black algal goo

As a void into which the mice 

Would fall and never be seen again

One morning I heard a faint scratching 

Behind a fake log in the gas fireplace 

One of her traps had lured its prey

And the little guy lie there 

In a gelatinous bed of black,

Wide eyed and exhausted on his back.

Eventually it would have starved to death.

Sometimes the young males rip the fur

From their skin in their frenzied escapes.

I’ve read of horrified spouses finding traps

With isolated limbs torn from torsos.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

I carried the little torture chamber outside,

Placed it level on the driveway 

And brought the head of a hammer swiftly 

Down on the skull of our unfortunate prisoner.

I looked away when I swung 

Like all good executioners must.

It wasn’t blood I wiped from my face

But the spattered black remains

Of an uneasiness

No one even bothers to name 

5/17/26

poem

 Time Machine 

When the time machine is invented

Everyone will want to have one

Some will live entirely in the past

While others keep bouncing further

And further into the future

I went back and forth for a while 

But none of it ever made any sense

Without the context of the present.

Now I stay right where I am,

Woven to the fabric of my own fate

So many men abuse this technology

They become the smoothest player 

Who ever existed or the ballsiest short

Stack who ever called a bet.

Every success story is now under suspicion 

Listen, I’m one of those people too.

I just decided to go in a different direction

This moment right here is a bridge 

To a future that dissolves the past.

Pay attention. Love itself is at stake 

I have this strange certainty that when I’m dead

You’ll be able to feel me in your actual body

Tickling your feet or jabbing my fingers in your ribs,

Sort of fake kneeing your ass from behind in the bathroom.

Instead of reckoning with that you’ll just take another Tylenol.

Well, here we are again

By now we’ve done this a thousand times

And I have a good feeling about tonight.

Long ago we agreed to finally get it all right.

I love you. Then, now, and tomorrow.

5/17/26

poem

 Power Outage

I hate to be the one to say it

But no one really cares 

Your power has gone out again.

Get a generator, jackass

But no, you’re missing the point—

The power shouldn’t be going out,

At least not so often,

Not every time it rains or thunders 

In this godforsaken society

Where the billionaires are plotting

To commandeer the warmth of the sun.

We should all be in the streets

Chanting, pitchforks and torches

Because we deserve a much better life

Given what they force us to pay

In taxes. What do we get for them anyway?

Where’s my high-speed train to Sausalito?

Why do you need a debit card first

Before you fix this open femur fracture?

I didn’t sign on to genocide

I don't care about the Ayatollahs,

Apache choppers, aircraft carriers or F-35’s.

Don't make my kids weigh 

The risks and benefits of Hamlet’s

Dilemmas, “useless” degrees

That don’t pay the bills

But should. Turn the lights on.

Turn all the lights on

Now.

5/17/26

poem

 Ads

I like commercials with a beautiful, perky actress and it’s just jump cuts of her in different brightly colored outfits. I like commercials where the dogs end up with fancy meals on white plates. Mélange. Haute cuisine. I like commercials that are loud and obnoxious like entitled toddlers ignored by bad parents. I like commercials with a genuine narrative arc where the climax is the appearance of a product they all start laughing at and the denouement is me writing down the 1-800 number on the back of an old magazine. I like commercials that are an easily solved puzzle. I focus on little things. Like which direction to twist the shower knob to get hot water. I like commercials that elicit feelings of 45 years ago. Cicadas and cigarette smoke. Driving home from Akron, the front windshield a snapshot of the universe while our spaceship's hyperdrive accelerates into the stars. I like commercials that have stopped trying. Embarrassed by their own product. But I’m a sucker. I want to help them. Don’t give up, I say. I’ll buy everything you need.

5/17/26

poem

 Moon Poem

The moon was once alive

With all the potential of any planet

Careening through the early solar system.

Seeds of rivers, mountains, flowers 

Sleeping in its roiling interiors 

Until the moment it collided with Earth

And everything needed was stolen.

Now it loyally follows us around 

Like a lobotomized pet

Spinning through space,

Patiently waiting for us 

To give back what we took.

Unbeknownst to most it drifts

A little further away from us—

An inch or two every year.

By the time we’re ready to share

The fruits of what we had taken

The moon will be so small,

Easily mistaken for just another star.

It will be like finally telling the one 

Who loves you, you love them 

But it’s just somebody who kind of looks

Like her and even she’s way over there

On the other side of the bar.

By then it will have been decades 

Since anyone mentioned it in a poem.

5/17/26

poem

 Conversion

If pure, a straight line promises

Many things— division, separation,

Over and under, left and right.

But focus on the line itself

Summoning a notion of infinite 

Extension, as far as the eye can see

In either direction.

Hop on

It doesn’t matter where

Only at the end do you notice how straight it was

And how little choice you had all along

It was always going to be point A to point B

Which, frankly, is an irrelevance in the context 

Of your own mathematically impossible existence.

Whatever the case may be, it sure did feel real!

Even though you’ve only stumbled infinitesimally 

Closer to the terminus 

And negligibly further from where it all began.

It’s as if you never went anywhere at all.

Saul on the road to Damascus

Had the old flash of light 

That happens to everyone 

Once or twice—

What if the line traces a circle

And wherever you are is both

A beginning and an end?

The rest of course is history 

5/17/26

poem

 TV Guide

Channel 1: Friendly Enough

Channel 2: St. Otherwise

Channel 3: Trees jockeying for position in a crowded forest

Channel 4: Patiently making a left turn through a red light—It’s my right!

Channel 5: Vera and Bart

Channel 6: The $100,000 American Pyramid Scheme

Channel 7: Crossed wires, the history of bombs that never went off

Channel 8: 60/40, sometimes the best deal you can get

Channel 9: Texarkana. Arkadelphia. Calexico. 

Channel 10: Aka, the sous chef, valderrama’s revenge

Channel11: Buried skeletons— Ryan realizes he’s running out of lawn

Channel 12: The local news. A town you can see from your hotel window

Channel 13: Dinner at D’Agnese’s

Channel 14: Breakfast with Tiffany 

Channel 15: Bloviations of ridiculous men in corduroy coats 

Channel 16: Resentful Gen X sons

Channel 17: In-laws vs out-laws

Channel 18: A very special episode of family scoundrels

Channel 19: Eating alone, drinking with friends, then alone again, some sleeping, alone

Channel 20: Expensive leather bound journals no one ever writes in

Channel 21: Botanical remedies for mechanical breakdowns.  

Channel 22: Public access programming for the un-self-aware

Channel 23: Making sense of the brevity 

Channel 24: Buck Mingo and the Ambidextrous Kid

Channel 25: Please enjoy this moment of Zen (mathematicians calculating the number of seconds left in the lives of various insects)

Channel 26: Honest conversations with itinerant liars 

Channel 27: The Dude Newman Hour: reflections on a life 

Channel 28: Interesting Socks

Channel 29: Men in sleeveless shirts shouting about sports ball

Channel 30: Watercolor Police Procedurals 

poem

 Hugs and Kisses

If you don't wake up from this

We’ll continue the conversation

As if you were still here, saving 

The silences for all the words 

You probably would have said.

We won’t cancel our carefully

Arranged plans and not just because

It’s too late to get our money back.

You’d be furious if we ruined

A good time on your account.

Life will go on as before,

As if nothing ever happened

To no one. Yes, we’ll continue to set 

A clean, empty plate for you

For dinner every night. 

Saying goodbye now seems like bad luck

So let’s assume a successful surgery

And promise to love one another

When all the anesthesia wears off.

4/47/26

poem

 Risks and Benefits

I hate to be the one to say it

But no one really cares when

Your power has gone out again.

Get a generator, jackass

But no, you’re missing the point

The power shouldn’t be going out

At least not so often

Not every time it rains

In this godforsaken society

Where the billionaires are plotting

To commandeer the warmth of the sun.

We should all be in the streets

Chanting, pitchforks and torches

Because we deserve a much better life

Given what they force us to pay

In taxes. What do we get for them anyway?

Where’s my high speed train to Sausalito?

Why do you need a debit card first

Before you fix my open femur fracture?

I didn’t sign on to genocide

I don't care about the Ayatollahs,

Apache choppers, aircraft carriers or F35’s.

Don't make my kids weigh 

The risks and benefits of Hamlet’s

Dilemmas, “useless” degrees

That don’t pay the bills

But should. Turn the lights on.

Turn all the lights on

Now.

4/27/26

poem

 Family Reunion

At last my whole family is finally gathered again, all in one place. Unfortunately that place is a dive bar in the red light district of my brain. Every memory a shot of tequila downed before anyone can do a toast. Dad is telling soft lies and half truths again while the eldest son holds court in the kitchen conducting a chorus of rolled eyes. The kids table wobbles on uneven legs perched on the edge of a precipice. The TV is on in every room set to maximum volume. I’m putting in my time with the ghost of my grandmother to ensure I remain her favorite. Uncle Dave is harassing mom again with the wit of a weekend sports anchor. Some of the cousins are in the basement sorting themselves into a hierarchy of dishonesty. A man I’ve never seen before has stationed himself at the stove, slowly stirring the sauce.  The chksshhhhh sound of Natural Light cans opening resounds through the house like invisible insects. Spouses are gritting their teeth. The nephew you least expect has just polished off his third deviled egg. It’s buffet style, it’s a sit down dinner. There’s paper plates and plastic glasses. The Easter ham sits untouched on a cartoon turkey themed platter. The box wines are aligned on a shelf like encyclopedias out of alphabetical order. Uncle Walt has wandered away and won’t be coming back. Aunt Carol! Aunt Suzie! Aunt Sherry! This is the last time I will ever see you again! The children are all getting so big. We teach them charades like we used to play as kids. Rotate your wrist like you’re reeling in a fish. It’s a movie! Three words. Sounds like. First word. Three syllables. First syllable. My first guess is always “love” but I keep it to myself. It’s time to give the youngsters a chance.

4/22/26

poem

 The Couriers

Granddaughter conveys messages to mother

Daughter-in-law does the same to father

He’s so busy. It’s not what you think. He’s a good man. 

You know how he is 

It’s a one-way courier system.

Messages from the father and mother

Never reach their intended destination

But are stored for safekeeping 

As per protocol, according to the code

Of all couriers.

It isn’t important if the words 

Are never received 

Only that they aren’t lost.

Time takes care of the delivery

4/20/26

poem

 Impatients

Daffodils burst forth at the first hint

Of spring, firing when ready.

By the time I blossom

The sun is already too far away

It’s too cold, the days too short,

I’ve missed the torrents of April rain 

And the promise of the first warm day 

Coming out of a frost.

I’m not even considered part of the garden

Just an unexpected pleasant surprise. 

If I’m lucky I can be a flash

Of violet in a scabbed landscape

Stripped down, picked clean of its bounty

By hordes of hungry wanderers.

I’ve plucked each precious petal

For safekeeping. 

But you must hurry—

Most of this light touches us

Only briefly before it reflects

Back on a long retreat

To its place of blinding mystery

4/20/26

poem

 Easter

Easter occupies the realm 

ordinarily reserved for poetry

Only its believers prefer

 the term mystery

A place where faith is not certainty

but hope is the consolation

Where a light unveils everything

we otherwise choose not see 

Where the pale old man in the pew

cachectic and frail

Receives his final blessings

neither yes or no, false or true

Any poet who visits this cathedral

fancies himself a theologian 

If death cannot destroy love

then what does it matter

If there is a return of the flesh?

4/20/26

poem

 Movie Review

We bought tickets 

To a long, inscrutable movie

Even the subtitles don’t make sense

It’s hard to tell if what we’re seeing

Is supposed to be happening

Or if it’s just some mechanical

Malfunction with the projector

This was supposed to be a special night

You paid for dinner and I told you

Things I’ve never said before

The only time I cry is at movies 

Or when I’m tired and alone

I thought this would also do the trick

Because sometimes you need

A good cry

Holding hands in the dark

Would be the perfect title 

For a movie based on our life 

Weeks later you could read reviews

Of the film in the local paper

Of diminishing circulation

But you don’t have to.

It doesn’t matter what the experts think

We know what we like

4/20/26