the final etching…

each day
he entered
his studio
like
a man
pushing his way
onto
a subway car
back arched
with
determined steps
and
each day
he followed
the same routines
he arranged
papers
and
pencils
for
his
personal project
then
proceeded
to do
the commercial
etchings
that paid the bills
taking small breaks
to make
sketches
for his
real
artistic project
but
turning quickly
from
such daydreams
to
the real work at hand
by day’s end
he had erased
the sketches
never good enough
the years
soon
took their toll
on his hands
and
he retired
was
a winter’s morning
when he entered
his studio
inspired
by a night’s vision
he began to sketch
what
had escaped him
all these years
he was found
slumped over
an
unfinished drawing

portrait of a man sitting outside in his underwear in yuma…

his eyes
follow her
unkept promises
to
another
mere
coins
tossed into
a wishing well
wishes
that cannot
nor
should be
granted
for they
are
faded memories
of
youth
so
faded
that they are
unrecognizable
without
the worn pages
of
a yearbook
pages
providing a list
for
deciphering
the names
neatly
printed
with
a small
font
in
the obituary column
a column
he
now reviews
daily
a routine
to give meaning
to days
squandered
calculating the odds
of
his
own demise

neo-babylonian walls …

these walls are not firm
they’re built with honor’s promises
freedom’s building stones
mortared just by history
and history’s forgotten

close-fitting legal briefs…

at the instant
of
death
are you provided
with
a quick review
of
your life
a visual
pretrial conference
before
entering
the angelic courtroom
so as
to
provide you
with
the appropriate
preparation
for
defending
actions
taken
or
not taken
during
what
you now
consider
an abbreviated
existence
and
as you
stand
before
heaven’s magistrate
will you be
wondering
if
you’re granted
the right
of appeal
if
some lesser angel
decides
not
in your favor
can you
appeal
to the supreme being
or
must you
request
purgatory
while
you prepare
your final defense
hell
maybe
it would have been
easier
to have done
it right
the
first tine

deconstructing freedom…

the old barn’ s been
weathered
by
many a storm
quite a few
of
its boards
have been
torn away
and
tossed
by time’s wind
into the sea
others
have been pillaged
for
personal gain
sold
on the open market
at
rock bottom prices
but
stolen goods
can be
dispensed
cheaply
since
there’s
no real overhead
well
not
for
the social merchants
of
sovereignty
but
those housed
in the barn
pay
the highest price
for
the loss

ain’t no alternate constitution for charges of treason…

the brown bag prophet
stopped me
and
said
all this discussion
about
people not
applauding
the president’s
incoherent ramblings
the other night
ramblings
leaving
most of them
stunned
in their seats
seems
to be
as they like
to say
a gross misrepresentation
for
this ain’t about
protocol
it’s about
freedom
see
for
those folks
in
washington
that
ain’t read
the constitution
i ain’t gotta
stand
applaud
or
yell out
sieg heil
when the
president
say something stupid
or
presents some alternate fact
and
it
sure ain’t
un-american
to resist tyranny
but
what
is
un-american
and
treasonous
is to
attempt
to subjugate
the people
of this nation
with
a political dogma
of
blind allegiance
to
a single person
instead
of
true
open-minded allegiance
to
the nation
and
to its people
wonder why
they don’t put
that
in
a memo