Promise when you clutch,

white knuckled on the kings feet

tears are scattered gems

across the court, plead your case

help from the mediator.


Taxation and time

have taken their toll-

to bring on these calluses

and hardened soul.

Hazel eyes sharp,

cuts down with a blow,

few he can say

that he loves a soul.

Romantic Songs

You say I have romantic songs, lost to time;

I’m bestowed a crown, which I can’t seem to find.

The depth you say you see

is static veneer that keeps me from free.

Piped out from this box

tru T.V. and Food Network

drown out their voices

or merge in a harmony

with discordant choruses.


The snow slap-full hit the ground,

white little car couldn’t be found;

snow like cream cheese,

went up to my knees,

and muffled every sound.