Questions like razors.
Events like buckshot.
Life as a minefield
In an erratic hailstorm:
Duck, cover, patch, piece,
And bleed.
An Erratic Hailstorm
What Will You Add?
In the void of this world,
The vast and fertile net,
What will you add?
Add breath to the flames
And fan them higher?
Raise the anger.
Affirm the scorn.
Feed the fear.
Indiscriminate
Of who or what
Is torched and
Left for ashes?
In the raging mob of opinion,
The dire and crushing press,
What will you add?
Add force to the flow
And move it forward?
Lift the torch.
Judge the target.
Toss the rope.
Unconcerned
If truth or law
Are dashed and
Turned to dust?
On this pedestal and soapbox,
The conduit of chaos,
What will you add?
Add weight to the apathy
Of violent division?
Share the post.
Like the meme.
Fuel the agenda.
Heedless
Of who or what
Is cast as villain only,
Remade with partial truths?
In this world of flying insults
Of sides and enemies,
Of pride and inflated ego,
Of all-wrong and all-right,
Of lies and misleading truths,
Of intense and unreasoning
Anger, hate, and fear,
What will you add?
In Frozen Turmoil
Shift after shift,
The fields change.
Moment by moment.
Past and future
Merge then diverge.
A sturdy compass,
Once true,
Now argues with stars.
Now agrees
As real shifts.
Do stars lie
Or merely hide?
The ship’s rudder twists
And turns and bends
From side to side
And path to path,
Loosed from the wheel.
Freed to the fates.
The currents pull.
The winds push.
Fore, aft –
Nowhere.
The ship flounders,
Its path uncharted
As lies and right
And truths and wrong
Battle and dance –
Stirring the storm
And casting the ship
Forward, back, and beyond
In frozen turmoil.
A Definition
He cannot mow like he used to do.
He cannot climb or clean the roof.
He cannot calculate or pay the bills.
He cannot remember to take his pills.
He cannot repair or drive a car.
He cannot find home if he goes too far.
He cannot find plates or cups or food.
He cannot articulate his wants or mood.
Except to say, “I’m worthless.”
Oh, that – that he can do, and
As he defines it, yes, it’s true.
What of your definition?
For him? For you?
A Hundred Years
If I could live a hundred years
The way that I am now,
I’d rather live a shorter time
And improve it all somehow.
Rain’s Viscosity Demonstration
A liquid full of solids.
Rain’s viscosity demonstration.
Full of slippery steps,
Strange noises, worms,
Dirty floors, and extra work
For the washing machine
Parallel Tasks
Parallel tasks,
Like parallel lines,
Never touch –
Unless they are one.
And though many forget,
By chance or by choice,
Their direction
Includes more than one.
