The Consortium


A thousand years

Has passed again

And so

The comet nears

The priests prepare

The virgin lass

And now

The god appears

They play together

In the sun

He looks

Within her heart

And finding what

He’s looking for

He knows

He must depart

The comet circles

‘Round the sun

The god

Soon disappears

And harvest

Is delayed again


Thousand years


Morning Star


O Morning Star

How you


The sky

Yet break

My heart

For with

Your eye

Upon the


My lover


Must part



I close my eyes

And breathe…


I’m floating

Down a river.


Slowly the river

Begins to

Loop lazily

Through forgotten

Valleys of



I catch a glimpse

Of myself

Floating along

Around a bend.

I think to wave

But we both know

Peace of mind

Is to be had here,

So we breathe,

We breathe.




To write of hands,

And all that they

Can do,

I found the thoughts

I’d jotted down

Just grew and grew

And grew.


Handy artwork

Digits ten

Prehensile palms

One for Zen

Call for peace

Without a word

Build a house

Flip the bird…


I’m overwhelmed

With hands and so

To finally end this rant,

Instead of listing

All they do,

Here’s one thing

That they can’t:


They’re very skilled,

But flesh and bone;

They cannot build

What must be grown.



Last Day of Marriage

On our last day of marriage

My ex-wife gave to me

Twelve beers a-brewing

Eleven burritos baking

Ten tacos toasting

Nine nachos nuking

Eight Eggos waffling

Seven sausage sizzling

Six hot dogs heating

Five bologna rings

Four fish a-frying

Three Ex-lax

Two sleeping pills

And a subsequent

Load of laundry


At McDonald’s



Employee of the Month Award

Around my neck was hung

The barrel of my .38

Was pungent on my tongue

A deadly glass of poison

Was lifted to my lips

The suicide solution

Was at my fingertips

But then quite unexpectedly

A cure for me was found

(The way she put her hair-net on)

I guess I’ll stick around