Gators bide their time,

patiently basking in sun,

waiting for the feast to come.

~

They’ve grown impatient,

or so it seems, and bearing

torches walk our streets.

Looking out over

the ocean, I give thanks for

the vistas you’ve shared with me.

~

And I thank you for

meeting children raised as kin

by you and your dear old friend.

Hours on the road

bound for some distant vista,

and the sojourn comes up short…

~

How frustrating it

is when fruits of our seeking

fail to satisfy.

When hate comes knocking

how can we turn it away

without locking heart’s door?

~ 

If we ignore them,

sending only the police,

what will they have gained?

And so it’s begun,

this retreat into the sun,

anticipating winter.

~

Anticipation

remains. The sun, however,

has gone on retreat.

How Christ must weep when

he sees Christians crucify

the very teachings he died for.

~

This time Jesus weeps,

only not from compassion,

rather in disgust.

Despite the chaos,

if we seek deeper waters,

may we, too, find peace?

~

If we learn to swim

and not sink in waters so

very deep, we shall find peace.

Any hints on how 

to stay focused and caring

when s#!! hits the fan?

~

A huge, huge build up

followed by a huge let down

brings things into sharp focus.

Is it truly work

if you’re loving the labor

or is work about the wage?

~

Work is work whether

paid or not, but if it’s fun

so much the better.

Are you sure you don’t

want to find some poetry

as we grow fit together?

~

I would rather find

a juicy dinner haikū

with a side of Sedōka.

It seems, recently,

walking on slippery rocks

is safer than politics.

~

And what about that

slippery slope when people

actually get out and vote?

Thank you for your not

so subtle way of asking

me to fill in mondo’s blanks.

~

All is forgiven.

After all that exercise,

sure, you’re to0 tired to write.

On this very day,

eighteen, too short, years ago,

my, now adult, infant sprang.

~

Before we know it,

they’re grown up and gone and we’re

left to carry on.

 What will we become

if the lamp of liberty 

greets only the middle class.

~

A hollow nation

where homogeneity 

always trumps diversity.

In our frantic charge

for professional success,

what have we been neglecting?

~

We can’t charge success.

It must be earned through careful

budgeting of energy.

Too bad we can’t just

blow a whistle, call foul, and

demand a replay.

~

Once the play has run,

even honest referees

often need to check the tapes.

All this slight of hand;

rearranging the deck chairs;

what are they trying to hide?

~

It doesn’t matter

how the deck chairs are arranged.

This ship is sinking.

At the close of some

overcast and rainy days –

 unexpected pots of gold.

~

In the fading light

luminescent puddles shine

in the evening afterglow.

Please find a new lens;

chromatic aberration

has tinged our world red and blue.

~

And yellow too. So

few have the courage to seek

and speak what is simply true.

What rough beast slouched his

way to West Virginia to

speak crassly to the Boy Scouts?

~

Vile toads that croak

crassly to the darkest cess 

lingering from bygone days.

One drop, another,

and all clarity dissolves,

replaced by pleasant bokeh.

~

  A lens that creates

a pleasing out-of-focus

blur –  a politician’s dream

As summer swelters

and the undrained swamp boils,

what bubbles to the surface?

~

That undrained swamp

is full of Russian waters

from presidential quarters.

What if he opened

his heart instead of grabbing

others’ body parts?

~

Assuming he could find

his tiny heart to open,

he’d have his hands full with pain.

The sound machine roars

drowning out the cries of folk

trying to meet basic needs.

~

Round and round it goes

distracting many folks from

what’s right before them.

Incoherency 

can pay if clarity would

make you look the fool.

~

More obfuscation

can not cloud the obvious;

there’s still lipstick on that pig.

Why must people use

 unnecessary verbiage

when silence can speak volumes.

~

It’s obvious we

need to turn the volume down

and sometimes off is better.

Any words to help 

us remember we are part

of a larger whole?

~

I don’t do uplift.

This political climate;

I’m trancechannelling Eyore.

When sticky wetness

rules these nasty summer days

can we hope to find relief?

~

If you stick inside

you might find relief but be

bored beyond belief.

Sometimes bad bills don’t

make their way through Congress for

all the wrong reasons.

~

But rarely does good

legislation progress

despite ample benefit.

Morologia

flows frequently and freely

from alabaster abodes.

~

Foolish talking (yes,

my fellow poet, I looked

it up) flows from all of us.