Apologia ex Britannia ad Americam

For all those so-called Christians, no

better than beheaders, for

Confederate-nostalgics,

Race-Supremacists, Survivalists,

Creationists (and the School-Boards which

bow to them), for all those

deniers, cursers, haters we are

truly sorry we let go West those

Puritans we so despised and were

so glad to be rid of.

Ribs

We live under complicated skys,

hearts compressed within

ribs aeons old that

weren’t there a moment ago and

were gone soon after.

Bad Books

I must, one day, read those
Bad Books in which I
feature so heavily: I guess
I am not the Hero, or
maybe I was and just
went bad? Became the
villain? Am I dashing as such?
Might I be at least allowed to
twirl my mustachios and
laugh heartlessly?

More likely I’ll be
bumped off early in that
new book you are reading, your
marker left in my Bad Book, the
rest unread so you will
never know how it ended.

Night/Dark

I love the night but I

don’t like it so dark that I

cannot read, find it hard to

write, struggle to discern the

hands of friends, end up

barking like dogs

afraid of what the

dark portends.

Be Not Afraid

I don’t mean to scare you,

just want to touch something

warm and alive, blood

pulsing like distant thunder,

cause a shiver like

cold calls of air, chilling but

fleeting so you don’t suspect

it was me, I,

who was touching you.

Whether Weather

Summer creeps over Spring’s shoulder,

uncertain of her welcome—

whether the party next door will

crack her a beer or

curse her for the

weather she can’t control.