It was my job to keep Uncle Billy from jumping into his mother’s grave

talking politics   my teeth are dry

sea grass so close to a whisper

a descending red-leaf sermon

before it’s too late to simply live and let live

he butchered the deer on the double yellow line

the creepy forensics of strange hairs in hotel rooms

he was a man who knew how to light a lady’s cigarette

amidst the sunny paroxysms of yellow jonquils, I’m asked to repeat myself

unable to dispel worry, I turn to simple prayer

in the middle of a mass extinction: a knock, knock joke

born yesterday   the pine mushroom

the director’s cut of this world

the tea drinker didn’t take sides

grateful to get the heel of the loaf

the One Step Beyond of facelifts & Botox

arranging my own Castalia again