Nothing lasts forever.  
Funny, 
that realization 
never left its mark 
all the times 
I threw 
away 
stale and shrunken 
bouquets 
that were once 
blooming and seductive 
to the senses 
before passing 
their peak.  
Maybe because 
they can't speak.  
Maybe because 
they can't cry 
out for more than you can give.  

Booth and Evangelizing 
We have reasons to suspect, he insists;
lips move out of sync with his words
teeth march a bloody regime
glaring gun barrel eyes 
he aims, shoots shiftlessly
runs like a gelding 
in boots too big for his stature
a saddleless Samaritan
missing the point 
of salvation.    
Start Your Day With Serial

Stopped in traffic
Interstate waits 
for micromanaged toll booths
collecting dead metaphors
for those of us that don't
have the change
the time
the patience
for cement horizons leading to dead ends.