Up the Street

who remembers anymore
mentors in old world conflicts
of square-headed boys
obliges this repetitive stress
doorlocking and wound checks
onward christens this battlefield
in full sequins and colored feathers
waiting with cups in hand
drink to auld lang syne
and rung in to the tune
played on debts and credits
mix words under the bridge
one man against the world
even if he’s not interesting

Five Second Rule

good use of the king’s men
make my events lasting
by god at the same time
ourselves in this holiday
elderly quibbles in irish
fantasies of human contact
what is left matters most
of a drawer full of ashes
defined by wind speed
and character actors
this was a good buddy story
when snow reflects at 6 am
all that is approaching
we are our own barbarians