John has great big waterproof waders;

John has great big pockets in his vest;

John has a creel,

A rod and reel,

And polarized shades

Cause they’re the best.

John has a pair of non-slip shoes on;

John has stuff to repel the gnat;

John has a net,

A snake bite kit,

And good luck charms

Hanging from his hat.

John has only one big wish:

“if I could move at all

I’d catch a fish.”

One night a stained-glass hurricane fell apart over the Atlantic,

cascading from the clouds:  128 pieces.

These fragments studded the ocean floor for

two months, six days, eight hours, and four seconds,

occasionally moved by currents until they reached the mouth of a cave, out of which

peered a prepossessing 36-foot octopus.

Using all eight tentacles, she picked up the remains, and

swiftly planted them in the rich compost of her cave.

Gardening is inherent in the species.

Accompanying the glass are the octopus’ previously

recovered bijoux, which included

5 divers’ air tank, 302 sea shells, 83 pearls, and 17 fish knives. 

Determined to harmonize with her garden, she strained and heaved until her flesh

evolved into smooth-tinged glass, a pieced-together quilt of

nearly all the shiny things she had amassed throughout the years.

Shimmering silver, sparkling white

Rays of twilight gems abide

The eerie glow of fireflies

Easy on the eyes

Focused fiends without relent

From the cosmic regions sent

Armed with cutting implements

Discord follows their descent

Silence broken, peace is gone

Assassins standing on my lawn

Gratified in doing wrong

I can’t survive for long

Hesitation’s not their game

Their razors thirst for limbs to maim

Slicing, stabbing, tearing through

A trophy for a trophy room

Sanguine colored nectar spills

From mortal wounds that never heal

Wickedness is now revealed

Desire is fulfilled

Shimmering silver, sparkling white

Rays of twilight gems abide

The eerie glow of fireflies

Easy on the eyes

How I Go – Yellow Card

We greet the world with bright hope.

Sighs of satisfaction escape when

our blistered hands eat the first

hard-earned fruits.

The nakedness of life is lovely:

a single lamp and a can of soup

split four ways. Plasma screens

replaced by animated, laughing faces.

The simplicity of breathing, bleeding

is fresh. The world is wringing us

while we’re thick cloths. We will

thin to rags, but for the moment

we gather to join hands and

storm the world, eclipsing its

despair. We shut our eyes, hold

our breaths and pray it lasts.

I want to get away from you

To keep my ears from burning and

Save your eyes the scrutiny

Your conscious the guilt

My smells that permeate

Through crinkled nostrils

When we pass

The lasting impression on your

Two piece business uniform

You can’t wipe it off

No matter how much money

You shell out

What I want is four opaque walls 

Where your demeanor 

Can’t remind me

I only have what I carry

So blanket me with yesterday’s edition

As I bed myself on your trash

Under a pitched tent of

Quarter inch cardboard

Stow your charity

For once

We can’t see each other