Our Herded Hearts

I’d rather cringe

in ecstasy, than

quiver in disgust.

We revel

in redundancy

it’s all we have to trust—

ourselves against the odds

initials on a wall, each letter

carved with dignity—

till dignity is lost.

We’re clueless

with the clues,

useless feeling used.

Each hopeless

a romantic, each helpless

as romance is.

And we can smell our own,

like cattle led to slaughter,

knowing that we’re next.

Our herded hearts must witness

each blow before our last.

Elephants and Goldfish

Like Goldfish

in a bowl

My love

never notices

the Elephant in the room.

His trunk dips down


he’s a lush—

a lush who always listens

and fails to forget—

who reminds me

while I’m flopping

there are much worse things

than death:

Oranges For Sale

There’s always someone—

Oranges For Sale:

three sacks, mustache

and workman’s hands.

Standing by the on-ramp,

squatting by the freeway—

sweating for a sale.

Though I never seem to buy

or anyone else for that matter,

they’re always selling—

a language

we don’t




through the pain, until

the pain feels like pleasure

and the words spill like wine—


just for pleasure, until

the meaning’s lost for good

and the taste’s just stale bread—


like a ghost, until

your thought just disappears

and crumbs scatter the floor—


now for what?

When pleasure causes pain,

it pains me now to see

last years apparition in the waste bin.

Flowers Laid To Rest

There comes a point

When all you want is

The bad feeling to stop

Where you’ll do nearly anything

Anything to turn off

Did you think my love had died?

I need not a response—

Beyond the breaking point

I took a look around

There’s a pomegranate tree

And flowers laid to rest


With it I feel


Without it

I feel Something

It is I as I is it

And can be many things

A pebble in the shoe

A headache after dark

A dismal brackish thing

That I wonder if it feels

Something without me?

It’s probably for the best

To leave it alone.