Today I have reached the milestone of 100 posts. I’d like to give a huge thanks to all those that have followed me and the countless others that have liked or commented on my work. God bless. I could have chosen any number of topics to write about for my one-hundredth post: Ferguson, Thanksgiving, Black Friday, etc. But I decided to post this short poem. Enjoy!



As November snow
observes behind the pane
I write a hundred poems,
using icicles to drip indigo
ink into the limp arm
of a fibroid page.

Honest Usurpation & Undocumented slumber


Honest Usurpation

Everything comes undone

the system can’t hold itself



Undocumented slumber

To the Dreamers:

perhaps it was good to

postpone the awakening.


Radio and Surveillance



Through static sound

I await a voice of truth

where deceptions thrive.



Someone monitors me

peeps through shrouded channels

disrupts my privacy.

Nostalgia II

This is an edit of last week’s blog post. Enjoy!

Nostalgia II

When last I reflect upon the verdant
fields near Dullstroom,
her majestic form fertilizes
my city-softened consciousness
to indite impressions
of the trout pond’s lonely hermitage;
stripped and felled trees
unburied on the back of a dwarf hill;
distant cows moaning for the rising sun;
mountain-bike paths winding
toward the elevated horizon.

But what will become of that virgin glen
that feels like a Romantic’s paradise?
If I, in body or mind,
were to call upon her again,
cruising down the battered road
toward that modern domicile –
anachronistic in this feudal atmosphere –
would humanity’s commercial tendencies
have altered it into an industrial hell-hole,
blessed silence shattered by the dirge
of construction butchering the landscape,
oozing out its ochre blood for all to see?

Even if the land is annexed
by capitalist Nazis,
I pray to find upon return
those familiar rolling pastures
possessed with a quint muteness
to cure my malignant tristfulness
as a melodic psithurism serenades my ears.