
primordial soup
a little dab'll do ya
greasy kid stuff spark

grounded corporeal
vessel on shopping mall reef
of consumerism

I've noted that when
a conservative bangs on
about having skin
in the game it's always our
skin in their rigged corrupt game

Future blends with past
Appreciate the blurring
Moment by moment

my first full size bike
pieced together from spare parts
rolling chimera
a full sized Schwinn frame
spray painted sky blue, leopard
print banana seat
high rise handlebars
a big rear view mirror clamped on
for my first test ride
looking in mirror
and not where I was going
fell off, mirror broke

Mother was forty.
Father was fifty when I
was born. The caboose.
He worked on railroad.
All the livelong day. Math says
I was his present.
Gift given on his
fiftieth birthday. That was
my moms family joke.
Siblings said I was
left on doorstep by gypsies.
Children seen. Not heard.
Not the center of
anyone's universe then
Except for grandma
Mother went to work
At factory down the street
Never felt neglect
Nor did I feel poor
Hungarian grandmother
watched over me well.
Six of us lived in
Two bedroom home. One bathroom
One tub. No shower.
Time dragged at young age
Yet house cleared out soon enough
Siblings move on out.
Leaving me alone
Youngest still fifty years on
Still not seen or heard

mental cough known as
a scoff will expectorate
airborne balderdash

enormity is
established after two steps
off the bluff of time

Social distancing
On Social Media brings
Quiet quietude

Words that land fallow
Often come from a callow
Self centered fellow

I saw no future.
Groomed to be up to my butt
in Nam rice paddies
1-H to 1-A
Random sequence number was
seventy six. Yikes
Lucky me. The draft
stopped a year hence thanks to those
that went before me

now to become a
fully imagined human
instance by using
scrolling data and shifting
curves the good old fashioned way

Poised on the cusp of
Bicuspid disaster I
Bite the jerky hard

why smear facts around
when rumors spread and flower
out of every crack