Thursday, February 23, 2017

I'm a cowboy,

on a steel horse I ride.
If I forget to take the trash out again,
I'll be wanted:
Dead or Alive.

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Riding's not that hard;

it's like sitting on a chair
strapped to a rocket.


Tuesday, February 14, 2017

It was just a simple question

If you were in charge of the country, would you let in refugees?


But what if a stranger came to your door in the winter, cold and hungry, looking for help?

"I'd give him a coat and tell him to go away."

But I thought you went to church.

"I do."

Doesn't it say somewhere about helping your neighbor?

"I helped him with a coat."

What if it was The Big Guy knocking at your door?

"You mean Jesus?"


"And I didn't recognize him?"

Of course.

"Well...We've got to help our own first before we start helping others."

You mean, Me First?


You mean, Me First? America First? aMErica FIRST?


*  *  *

Maybe it WASN'T such a simple question.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

No poetry

It's hard to imagine
a real poet's imagination
can still evoke images poetic
during pathetic times
as these.

As for me?
I'm all out of poetry.

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Thursday, February 9, 2017

If I was smarter,

and had money, I'd run for public office; maybe just for the office of Dog Catcher, but by God I'd treat those dogs right.

Tuesday, February 7, 2017