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Mine  is a wild  spring step,
shoe heels dash leaf strewn path,
I spy wrinkled driver’s,
rueful rush hour grim mien,
from sleek chrome  cars  crawl as,
my drained feet  moult traction!

Third Place Podium Medal  in Poetry Soup Contedt 
May 2025

Mine  is a wild  spring step,
shoe heels dash leaf strewn path,
I spy wrinkled driver’s,
rueful rush hour grim mien,
from sleek chrome  cars  crawl as,
my drained feet  moult traction!

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One can be targeted by past life bullies,
continuous cathartic resonance of black bashful veil,
imposing the darkest recess and its tangled tantrums amassed,
phases exist without problematic manifest intrusion illusory but for a while,
the reckless chilling bursts of wild incendiary angst a blight,
such burdens match interminable interior and exterior struggle,
the bulk of etched trauma recent or derivative of remote life event,
an additional weight as each sufferer ploughs meaningless routine,
the drab and dull flat repetitiveness referred to as career duty,

Look, and look again
First glances make us liars
We fill in the blanks
Dreaming up sinew and bone
Where there is only light and shadow
Our perception bends to our perspective
Look, and look again
To the streets
To the trees
Do we see what is there
Or what we wish there was?
Look, and look again
At the ones you love
Do you see them as they are?
Or who you wish they were
What is there and what is just us
Making ends meet
When there is nothing
But air

I met Death in the daylight
He didn’t bother to hide

And I met Death in the nighttime
While he set your troubles aside

I held Death like a lover
His hands rested on mine

And I faced Death like an enemy
While I argued that it wasn’t the time

I greeted Death at the doorstep
I told him I hated them all

And I sat with Death by the fire
While he told me to stumble, but never to fall

I met Death in a chapel
He knew that I didn’t pray

But I left Death by the altar of bone
Where he told me to just let it lay.

like the infinite vista
upon the midwestern plain
farther than the eyes of mine
(an ascetic and copacetic
shortsighted father of two grown
twenty something daughters)
can no longer see,
since sockets severely seared
staring at the hypnotic screen
blindsided courtesy the magnificent 7
(a group of seven
major technology companies
that consistently outperformed
the overall stock market,
particularly in recent years)
severed mine "ocular orbs,"
leaving a comfortably numbskull
bonafide USDA approved
nondescript puny skeleton

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