we wouldn't write if we weren't consumed
and driven by the total and utter fear that
we had nothing, absolutely and completely
nothing to say

There's the screen with some letters
or figures or something on it.
I'm clicking away but nothing
becomes clear. More markings appear.
Then more. Then still more. I scroll
away endlessly. In my
mind's eye I see "the fire next time."
But it is a long way off.

In the foreground are sufficient
dangers to watch for; with lots
of small glories to contemplate.

Don't race along this stretch. No one knows what waits around the
bend. Trace your map to understand what is near and where you stand
so that what's at hand won't hit you in the future. Stop signs are reminders.
In time you'll find what waits ahead. And when inclement weather rushes
in around you, blinkers are like winks. Steer clear of tolls while on a search
for fresh routes to explore. Though curves may not be plotted, blind spots
need not make you skid. They cushion all the roads and blanket every bend.

In winter, when it
Doesn't snow, the
Ground is
Thirsty and
Sad.

Liars are everywhere,
Bending to kiss your cheek
While whispering in the ear of
The women next to her.
A lover promises
"I love you"
Broken as soon as
She walks into the room,
Red dress, long legs, blue eyes.
The weather forecasts "SNOW"
But instead it "RAINS"
It rains so hard we think
It might flood.
They told her she would be a star,
Instead she finds herself living in a
Roach infested New York City
Apartment, posing "NUDE" for some
Trash magazine.
She is some ones daughter
But, "NO"
Not my daughter,
Not yours.
We can't count on the
Sun rising or setting,
Because the idiot driving on
The wrong side of the road
Might run you over.
We never know
When it will end.
So much uncertainty.
I am certain of one thing
As I write this poem,
That the dog coming
Into my yard
Will most certainly
Shit on my grass.

perhaps
door
perceives its
own
aggressive nature
closes it
self to
us

door
knobs
i nod not
like asleep
but as a
yes
turn & o
pen
like hand
writing
changed
a
field

we enter
door
split
from violence
the room
crowded veils
a film en
velopes
eyes
the shark
orders
more
f
o
o
d

day is
air connecting
dots
(do not hold the doors)
is smooth dream
job

glish is
night

do you ever dot your
eyes
before you
look?

a door opens
is an airy space of wooden legs
invitation to sitting & dining
the possibility of indigestion & discussion
of furni-
ture

It sits slightly skewed, like a picture left crooked.
It isn't squared or on center; it's corners jut out. 
Dangerously. 
The top is smooth, straight and yellow. It has a welcoming texture. 
The sides look solid but the apparent solidity is deceptive.

You could slide a knife in and watch it come out the other side. 

The corners are like blades, perfect, sharp. 
I might be afraid to touch a corner. 
There are three layers to the pad. 
The top is yellow, then a thin layer of blue and finally purple. 
The pad of post-it notes has a toy-like quality. 
A child might like to pick it up, but I would fear for the child's fingers on
the pad's honed corners. 

Perilous corners.  It is not a cube.  It is too short for a cube. 

If the pad were cut in half, it might look like a confection of butter cream
frosting and food colouring.  This too is
deceptive because it is only paper and no good for eating at all. 

A note can be ripped off the top and used for writing a message or a list. 
The adhesive on the underside of the note is strong enough to hold it to
any surface. 

It could have "HELP" written across its face and applied to a window. 
It could be a love letter. 
It could be a shopping list:  eggs, sugar, razor blades. 

It must be handled carefully.  It can cut with one slice of its
pretty yellow edge.

The old monk said he'd been at war
for centuries...
 
had not yet won, which is why he
continues returning
 
life after life... and then
as if to show me
 
a medallion, he said, "One day
I may tire of the fight,
 
make peace with every country
on the continents
 
of my body."
and walked away... without a word.

Cutlass beats saber,
Saber beats rapier,
Rapier beats stick,
Stick beats bone,
Bone beats flesh,
Flesh beats just about anything.