Thursday, October 10, 2013

What a Rising Poem Became

This morning complete
with breakfast, brushed teeth, and breathing

in intake/exhale fashion minus the mucus
that hijacked so many dawns might be one millionth the joy
former slaves felt stirring from warm bed
in free state as Freedmen.

Consciousness, still in semi-dreamland, wonders
if poem might reside in half composed thought.

Abruptly, politics fueled adrenaline floods synapses
Decide one should not make such comparisons,
-thoughtful or not- mere days
 after Congressman John Fleming compared
the Republican fight against the Affordable Care Act
to battles against the Fugitive Slave Act.

Enslavement is enslavement; everything else is everything else.

Traces of sleep trance banished,
I rant into keyboard.
Vowing that while crazed
Tea Party members altered a poem
They will not shutdown this poet.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013


Last poem of postcard season
written as thunder rolls.


Housenate’s darling calico
pounces on crane fly
we are trying to return to the outdoors
prior to its starvation.