A.G.E's Joint

  Red Fruit On white plates Eaten by tiny hands Band singing together An American tune As blue and yellow bombs Eplode overhead

Recently, I was looking at a horse trainer’s Facebook page where all the King’s horses were being put through their paces. It got me thinking about something that happened when I was about six or seven years old. We lived in a subdivision and beyond our street were mostly small horse farms, with a few cows interspersed here and there. There was a creek and an abandoned rock quarry.  In other words, lots of places for a kid to get lost in and have adventures.    One morning during the Spring, my mother was cleaning up the kitchen after everyone had left the house. Given there were four kids and a husband, this was not a small task. I was home sick from school, so she had me to deal with, too. She was also seriously hungover, but that seemed to make the time go faster for her.  She was finishing up the sink when the phone rings. With a cuss, she snarches the receiver off the wall. It was the next door neighbor, Mrs. Rowan. "Teeny!” My mom had always been call...

Shambling alone Concrete jungle Screams Banana mush In the gutter Of dust and bones.

  Calm river Clouds cast a melancholy glow Over the abandoned brewery. Vesper call The riff-raff clog the street Chasing the last streetcar Into Marigny How does the rain get made? Cheating hearts And saucy tarts Send the wetness To the sky

  On the shore Slate mass Huddles on the horizon People gather their things  Me? My sanity was cured long ago Trawler on the horizon A flash behind the Bridge Slow roller Second, a bomb. Bring my darkness to light Chaos into a secret order In the pouring rain.

  Dockside bar Sunrise on the table Sunset over the mast Water same color Snake oil on screens over the bar Can't hear, too much noise.  I think of Captain Tony Anchored permanently  Wish for full furl Snapping cloth and following seas