Gone out and partied instead of
Staying in and studying
Slacked off and coasted instead of
Showing up and working hard
Made friends and talked to people instead of
Sitting alone in the room with books
Played outside or lounged about instead of
Taking the job and
Showing up for every holiday

But I did not
They told me not to
Said doing as I did would lead to success
And it might be called success to be
Working in a field for which I never trained
Working to pay off the debts that cluster in my name
Working so that others may profit all the more
Working day and night each day and night
But if this is success
What must failure be?

Like what I write? Want some done for you? Fill out the form below, and we’ll see what we can do!

Or just send your support along!

The jewels upon her dress are losing their luster
And the dyes of its fabric begin to fade
Its warp and weave fraying and growing ragged
On her chalk-like rolling swellings as
He lays his castings out longer and harder daily

Worse
Of course
Are the clinging things
Bloating up with blood on which they feast
Clamoring for more
And turning away from the sight of the sky as they beset her

Still
She is beloved
Deeply and by many
And the thought of leaving her
Though such parting might be needed
Is no easy thing

If you like the work I do, fill out the form below and see what I can do for you!

Or just send support along!

They show up in patches on the roadside
Stains upon the carpet stretching wide
Spilled by passers-by and thickest nearest traffic
Crowding where the sludge and slime run off
Color springing from the filth

There is hope in such
Because it is not only the roadsides
That bathe in such waters

I remain available to write to order; let me know below what you need!

Or simply send your support along!

The old song sings
Of bulls that leap and bucks that fart
Ascribing thus to the old hart
The effects of a high-fiber diet
And as the spring
Prompts buds to bloom and fruits to start
And birds to take flight and to dart
I think that I may try it

But though the winter now has fled
I doubt that Jack has laid his head
Down all the way, and thus I dread
The cold snap yet to come

I’m available to write to order. Fill out the form below for details!

Or help my regreening more directly!

The years have passed since we went on our adventure
Passing from the hills into the high plains
Packing into a tent that huddled against the wind
As dark clouds blew in and disease
And we returned to fear and hiding away
Coming back to find that everything had stopped

Things have long since started again
The sickness pervading the world
And the one chance there might have been to start again
Gone like so many who
Drowned within themselves
Choking on their own sputum as others swore
It’s no big deal
People die every day anyway

Still
Still
Still
Still
We have to wonder if it will happen again

Like the work I do?
Fill out the form below, and see what I can do for you!

Or contribute to my continued delinquency!

Ever do I seek to simply
Sit with pen in hand and page
In front of me
Using the former to fill the latter
And get the things out of my head that well up within

It is not water that comes from that spring
Dripping sometimes but flooding in season
Nor yet does it leach away whence it flows
Or, at least, it does not so in a way anyone knows
For who remarks on one more hole in
A thing already spongelike?

Like the writing that I do?
Fill out the form, and I can do some for you!

Or you can just send support along; that’d be good, too!

The carpet is getting stained again
Soon after it got washed out and rinsed off
Someone dropping plops of ink upon the
Rising tatters and ragged edges
And still it looks better than it did each day

The stains spread each day
And I pass them by
Barely noticing that they have started showing up again
After all
The carpets are not mine
And I will not be the one who cleans them

Like what I do? Have me do it for you! Fill out the form below to get in touch!

Or help me to do more by sending your support!

If it were my second language,
Something I had worked harder to learn–
Because it is harder to learn another language later
And I grew up a monoglot–
Perhaps I would not be so sloppy with the words
Hoard them more closely
Place them more carefully
Perhaps like coins
As one author writes
Or like jewelry
Making more beautiful those who take them up and put them on

As it is
I grew up with it
Take it for granted
Spend it all too easily
Knowing I have an ever-full store
Casting as if at a fan
And with so much effect

Like what I write? I’ll write for you! Fill out the form below, and see what we can do!

Or you can send support my way!

It has happened again
Half of a conversation
Taking place far away from any interlocutor
Provoking rage at someone who
Was never even there
And would probably not say the things to which
Response was given

Bad enough
To realize what should have been said
Descending the staircase
So how much worse
To critique a party that nobody threw?

Like what I write? Want me to do it for you? Fill out the form below, and we can talk!

Or you could simply send support along!

A spore I cannot help but have inhaled
Hyphae spreading through me without notice until
The bloom breaks out and spreads its gills
Poisoning the ground from which it breaks
And while other fruits are still on offer
They are fewer and their stalks wither as they emerge
From soil being leached away

Unknowing hands will reach out
Grasp what shows itself on offer
Thinking it a blessing from their native soil
In which they are deeply rooted
Mycorrhizae working to no good end

I can also write to order for you! Fill out the form below to receive details!

Or spread your support!