Monday, May 31, 2010

Memorial Day at the Mall

I'm a wandering zombie, I mindlessly
choose tacos, beans and rice and
watch other mice at eating stations.
Sliced, diced or minced, flesh offerings
consumed by hungry eyes starving for
more than the warmth of a pita pocket.
I stagger towards sales and
get sideswiped in a dragnet of shoes,
two cougar Barbies hoping to find
redemption in six inch heels and
perceptions of sun kissed calves.
Magnets draw me to
miniature clothing,
red, white and blue.
Drag bags through
Babylonian alleyways
Memorial day's modern function.
New toys in the cage of consumption.

Sunday, May 16, 2010


Gaze upon the bleak color of wine.
Whispering I tear a piece,
soft from the larger body.
Like Jonah, I thrust bread into
dark seas,
God's mercies.
Haunts of His voice chill,
soul still.
Grape and crust
thrust into mouth,
promises swallowed, believed.
Received, tart treasure,
forgiveness, praying to
survive the storm.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

All That Jazz

Baby's boogers blow.
Daughter's disdain grows,
little brother flairs his nose.
Doors slam,
crashing cymbals of symphony.
Strings of whining whimpers
Horns belt out bellows.
Percussion of pattering feet.
This is no symphony,
it's all jazz baby.
Mom snaps her fingers,
the chaotic
beat of family.