Friday, August 17, 2018

When Home Becomes a Highway

Lately in this big old house,
Time sends signals to my ear…
Floor boards creak and walls pop
As if demanding me to hear.

It has proudly sat upon the cliff
Facing a century of snow and wind…
Now it shakes along with me,
Weathers’ changed, the bliss might end.

I’ve lived here over 25 years,
Cohabiting with the ghosts…
I think the structure realizes,
I was the perfect host.

My house observed the passersby,
Traveling either by foot or horse…
Awakening now on a highway,
Learning progress has no remorse.

Monday, August 13, 2018


All these people with iPhones,
Try to capture me off guard…
Calling me using Face-time,
But I remember the old school yard…

Steve Clawson was a bully,
Nancy Conner was a bitch…
Coach Arroyo was an ass hole,
With a homosexual itch.

All the creeps who stalk me,
Decades later in hot pursuit…
I offer now, myself to them,
A fat old man, hirsute.