Excuse Me, Are You Finished With That Hegemony?

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Hey man,

Respect the dynamic.

Our empire can’t be erected

On the backs of other’s babies.


Again. Can it?

Oh, and speaking of erections

Ladies, maybe if you let us touch your bodies

Every once or twice or three times


We’d let you have a say

About your plumbing or that place

Down there wherever the stork

Deposits the twinkle in God’s eye.


Alls I’m saying is it’s tough being white.


It’s almost, almost like trying

To not there at all.


016-2-1024×661 (For a While But Not Always)


That’s like closing the barn door

After the genie has gotten out of the bottle.

I’ve seen this film before, its a mixed metaphor

BTW I had the mixed kebab for lunch.


To quote Howard Tate, “Get it while you can.”

Just the same you gotta break some eggs to make a pyramid

Though they weren’t made in a day.

There’s a helluva burger joint next door


Once you copyright your imagination;

It’s out there doomed to ride the back of the bus

But the way I see it stay clear of the mountaintop

& don’t make yourself an easy target


Work the valleys & furrow like tears in a runnel

As dog-eared young and not so young ladies sing their songs

Whittling canary-spits to bleed the masses.

The shallowest pools often have the deepest reflections.

Upper Great Plains Mise En Scène



Once in one

Of the Dakotas

Sipping brandy

& listening to kiwi pop


Light broke through

A fractured pane

And scattered on the floor

Like marbles


You arrive

At such moments

Trailing behind

Your trained lemur


Francisco is a gentle, old soul

A poet in another life

Or maybe a day laborer

He tugs at the chin strap


Of his tiny red fez

And we laugh

And laugh

Like in the days


When we loved

Each other more than ourselves

Or a lemur dressed like a bellhop

In a late 80’s indie film


But we always ignored the furtive cues

And that’s why across the miles

Here in Wyoming starting tomorrow

Or the day after that


I’m drying out

To wither away

Like fallen leaves

From a fallen oak

Who Put the Feather Up Your Ass, Mr. Giggles?


We had just consecrated

The offspring of starlets,

The dew still limpid

As blood diamonds on Astroturf


When the difference makers

Made one false move;

Burying their dead

In plain sight.


Then the one who talked

Flopped his tongue out;

It drooped flaccid as a Colombian necktie

Down the front of his white shirt.


He’d eat a pile of dogshit

For a fresh Franklin

One delegate nudged another in the ribs.

He’s got my vote.

I’m Confessin’…

Just want everyone to know that…well…I’m…um. Gay.

Yes, it’s true. I’ve been gay for a few months now.

I’ve always questioned it. But now believe I was born this way.

Well, I was born a little blob of congealing cells that matured in a certain time and certain place.

It’s taken me some convincing myself but what’s the alternative? Persuading myself that I was sad, unhappy, not-gay, ungay?

Lately I have found myself to be festive, merry, gleeful, jocose, jocular, jocund, jolly, jovial, laughing, mirthful and sunny and refuse to deny it. Rather, I accept it. Embrace it. Love it.

What did you think I meant?

Oh, sexuality…I’m flattered that you think of me in that way and don’t get me wrong I like to…with… and sometimes…with….who doesn’t?

Maybe sex is just fill in the blanks while sexuality is happy?

So in closing I say, on this beautiful day, the only today we’ll ever have, I hope you’re all extremely gay.

I Refuse to Eat Your Donuts


Tar my sutures.
I’m a few miles shy
Of a round-trip as it is
But I refuse to eat your donuts.

Ramparts smoke in the early dawn.
The moats groan and yawn with carp.
Ask me to breach it all you want
But that’s a package deal with the donuts

And I’m not breaking the set.
Salt & pepper, night & day,
Reason & logic all forecast
Tomorrow bleeds brown.

Hitch your jackass to my supernova.
Here’s my card, stop by
When you have less time
And the carp are fully awake.