Sylvan Welcome

Dark murmurs out on the moors

Mother senses change most subtle

She can not speak it

yet still they sense her fears

Seeds of rumor planted

Falsehoods feast on misinformation

growing fatter by the hour

As they craft their parchments

for posterity and other flights of fancy

Do not join to this fool’s errand

Pay heed the whispers in the forest

hear and know her verse

While cities burn and tremble

find comfort and shelter

where memories are long

Road Trip (one)

Long drive, listening to Eno

Sledding the opiate slopes

in a warm cocoon console

The insular solace

measured by the center line

mile markers

exit numbers memorized

A favored inn by unlit ramp

Ideal for surreptitious landings

Suites accommodating

for frenetically idle reflections

Anonymous at the liquor agent

Clerk eyes the Absolut

takes the money, smiles

Fuel for the ten hour oblivion

before the road beckons once more

 

 

 

 

 

Social Media

A stage built for pontification

maniacal moronic megaphones

asymmetrical advertising assault

The bots have gained a beachhead

Soon the building will be surrounded

Come out with your wallets in the air

Submit or perish

 

Alumni

This was not your education

Preparation with a price tag

Carry the right pedigree

So you can tell others what to do

The learned tongue

spins webs of silk

The original antithetical device

contrarian savants in reverse

Break outside the bubble

and discover the larger sphere

No trivialities in focus

No private screenings for privilege

Here’s your ticket to nowhere

And your bill

Pass the test

Are soft metals still mutable

after cast into a mold

Or just cheap scrap

not worth what you paid

The long path

Thought I knew more than I did

Don’t know whatcha don’t know

When you’re too young

to even know

A wee Scottish Lass with mighty pipes

once sang know who you are

in every age

On the long path

I have found what she meant

All consequence, no quarter

Yet I breath still

The common good

Made him think of something

maybe read in Chekhov

or somewhere once

where pipes rattled in the walls

Floats down the streets

Trench coat billows in the mists

One more grey skeleton

rising to the light

In a row they emerge from the subway

Single file, march in rhythm

for the common good

no one knows