Babe in the Woods


Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird

That shouts and shrieks until smothered by speech.

Innocence, too willing, accepts her word,

As lies indoctrinate those whom she’ll reach.


Hey, diddle, the cow jumped over the moon

And heaved and tumbled as she fell toward Earth.

Sociopaths and martyrs die so soon,

Sweet lullabies nursed in evil’s birth.


Dickory, dock, the mouse ran up the clock

By dancing on the hands of destiny.

The pendulum of life swings tick and tock,

Controlling all things in its brevity.


Life is not a pretty nursery rhyme,

For all things wither till the end of time.


The Whispers of a Wanderer


She wanders.

A hand slaps her face.


The moon glares down.

Her eyes and her cheek believe

the sting is over.


But there is no relief.


Instead, she is met with an ironic

cascade of dry blinks and tears


through a puddle turned mirror.


Fingers freeze.

She owns them and she knows them, but to whom she owes their credit, she knows not yet.


The wind whistles.

She whispers back, something like a tune, except no one listens.


Only in the dark.

Leaves rattle in trees, dry call for encore. There is none.


Windows shake in their sills.

One day


she’ll jump out of one


land on her feet


and sing a hymn through the trees on into






A trickster, a snake, a mind-robber

Burning, nauseating stunts all the way down

Masqued by sweetness in a mug, cup, glass

Racing to come back up

Forcing the chase


A shield, an extrovert, a liberator

Tending scenes of happiness

Armed by the darkness of a crowd of laughter

Burdens acquitted in the Haze

Belting out, together, a hoarse sea shanty