Show Poem/ Dec. 3, 2021, Lawrence, KS (Replay Lounge): Today I write the poem down

But that doesn’t make it more or less
Than the poetry of any other moment

When I see a silent leaf drifting through
An unseasonably warm December sky
It is no different than a mob of young sexpots
Tearing up a dance floor on a Friday night

Regret is a shortcut for the rich path of mystery

Its sugar has us dipping our tails
Into bottomless wells chasing
Our own stories over page after page scrolling. Ahead in a book that has yet to be written

Engage your ass as rudder not the carrot or the stick
Invite the ghost of radical uncertainty
Into your bungalow of shifting sand

Hitch a ride on the wave of destruction
Rejoice in the salty tears
Of unqualified compassion

Show Poem: Death by more for less… June 12 / Chicago, IL / Auxiliary Arts Center #SchwervonPoetry


image photo by Michael Fawnsluh

Death by more for less

The shortcomings of self regulation
The saga of self motivation

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Feeding time
You don’t have to go hungry
But you can’t eat here

When love mapping
Beware of buried
Power lines

With all the praise required
God is surely the neediest
Of all beings

I escape the bluebird
With an active mind

Reading into things
Before understanding

The pages of a book
Lapping like waves
On the side of a
Mossy dock

Hill top
Green highways
Black bean burgers
With the ghost of Mark Twain

Lost glasses
In molasses

Eyelids stuck shut
Fields of fuel

Wishing did not feel so
All alone
Learning to eat chicken
On the bone

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We sit upon the broken eggs… Friday, March 14, 2015 #Schwervonpoetry 

Show poem from last night.


IMG_5109Morning sun deliver me
From the tar pits of sleep
 Fuel the day with
 Woolly Mammoth tusk.
 The meaty bones of writing.
 Skin crumbs that chip and peal
 from all the faces
 That I love and dream
 A day before the fire
 Evading the battles
 Over log cabins and hard cider
 Birkenstock face lifts
 Spray painted Cadillacs.
 Mr. Potato head eye shadow
We learn to dance with
 The broken bodies
 We study the chickens in the yard
 We learn from their moves
 We sit upon the broken eggs
 The imperfect yolks.
 We break free
 We shine with glitter
 Dripping from the corners
 If our mouths
 We smile rainbows
With each potato we peel
Each root we pull from the earth
Our dirt clod legs
Dangling in the sunlight
Pounding on the water trough.
Of this earth but no longer in it
Time to skip and dance
Time to feed others

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