Thursday, August 17, 2017

Elderly Hobo

The hobo life was romantic
Until the heart of the heartland changed…
Now when one leaves the box car,
Only an uncertain world remains.

The romance of the unknown,
Now keeps me awake at night.
The world is now unforgiving
Though shelter and food are in sight.

It’s easier to keep moving,
While staying close to the rails…
A lack of kindness is evident,
When trust in my hard work fails.

Monday, August 14, 2017


I remember friends in our swimming pool,
Bubbles erupting from their nose…
Half of them were true friends,
Half were users, I suppose.

In life we all were treading,
Our futures in the deep end…
One by one we climbed out,
Drying off, then diving in again.

In the morning, I’d discover
A beer cap or condom in the skimmer.
Diving boards and alcohol corrupt,
Even the safest swimmer.

Another dose of chlorine
Purified every son and daughter…
So many evil sins erased,
While clarifying the water.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

Flannery in Oregon

It was in the Boiler Bay parking lot,
I read the works of Flannery O’Connor.
Life in the golden south thrived,
Despite one psychopath’s dishonor.

No one ever died in peace,
There were horrors and even more…
Men beaten into grains of sand,
like waves smashed upon this shore,

 I watched the threatening ocean,
Challenge men; survival, their only mission…
Against the wind they faced the waves,
Flannery, dey was only fishin’.