Put the peach ripe

On the table

In the sunlight

The circle of brightness

Yes,

Where the knife flash

Falls across & through

The rosy red yellow

Apparition fuzzy

With pretension

To tastes delicious

Beyond mortal fare

In its sweet soft gush

Your tawdry dreams

Fulfilled beyond all measure

Of good- or deserved-ness,

And all this & more,

In a ripened peach.

That bold entrance

Direct to the window

To adjust the shades.

The dress that falls

Not too far ‘neath

The prix de jour—

As in campy heels

A leg rises to table

And invitations made

Locks & shadows fall

And new entry made

With gratifying wet heat

The gift is given

In mutual parrying

That boils perfumes

To heady ecstasies

And subsides in aahs…

Sad fact is

Like bad weather

In your face

Each and every breath

The horns of dilemmas

The standard measure

Has lost its respect

All is rubber sheet

Contortions in alternate

Universes flashing with

Disharmonies that grate

The ear drums with potent

Denials of action

We are listless

Without plan or motive

All pales in twilight

Azure shadows are our food.

Exception, Mister Speaker—

Thank you.

Upon that point of order

Well, may I approach

And make my annual appeal

Please the assembly

That the least of these

May have his or her day—

And further that this sun

Might shine on all

In this our commonwealth.

Else we shall lose the loyalty

Heretofore given in hopes

Of a better, generous day

When the basics of life

Might be granted, sirs,

As true birth rights.

Pine tree state,

Mother nature provides

Lumber and fish

Berries and lobsters

Although once servant food

Folks up here are used

To class superior folk

From Bah-ston

With Hah-vad degrees

Bright eyes, big ideas

But we Maniacs

Handle the tourists

Like the weather

She comes an’ goes

And being tough as rocks

We just remain

At season’s end, ehuh.

Inside her snore

Was the day ahead

Coded in compact

With the devil’s needs

To exert wrong force

On a man of wanton creeds

That’s what the deed says

Regardless of truth

Or fair judicial review—

So let the stupidity begin

With awakening snorts

And swimming to surface

Announcements & dreamscapes

Where reason gone dark

Makes application

To the best of retainers

Who want to serve the queen.

Mash potatoes

Puddin’ pie

Got a fish bone

On my plate

And a hanger

In my suit

Sure, dress to kill

And lay down your bets,

Tomorrow’s nearly here

And the demands

Never go down

Until you’re buried

In your costume box

With your best suit & tie—

Ready to meet the Big Man

(Or Woman)

(Or Thing)

That started this

Meals on Wheels.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Proper perspective

Step back, step forward

Hold up a finger

Judge the wind

Or ambient sound.

Ease up on the subject

While keeping a frown

From your lips

To God’s Holy Ears

All is known

Despite our dull stare

The light changes

Shadows perversely shift

You dance around

With clue or gift, so,

Put down the paint brush

And with dignity erase yourself.

He moved slower

Cold weather reptile

Mouth opens closes

Eyes blink

He belches

Then vague smile

Something, all the time

Licks lips

Smacks mouth

Inhales

Makes a wheeze

Starting to heal up

Any minute

A leg or arm

On the move

Head tilts eye closes

Well, maybe not yet.

Break out the shovels

Eight inches of snow

Brew some coffee

And scramble the eggs—

Heavy lifting ahead

Potential heart attack

Say where’s that May boy

Stout of heart

Lean of purse.

He’s an entrepreneur

He’s the future bright

Our cash drawer

Clings to a few bills

Gladly volunteers

To save an old man

In the autumn

Of his plutocratic years.