November 8th 2016

They say an election is a battleground To elect the lesser evil. Acidic words were exchanged Accusations possessed sinews and wings Rhetoric was belligerent and truth-drifted As tongues were slashing swords And rib cages were armored shields Bouncing off acryl words Here, there is only enough room For a comb-over or a power skirt And…

Water Melon

On rafts we paddle To a rift in the time axis While the tendrils of a watermelon creeper Carries a perfectly ripened pink medulla Inside a mammoth green orb A Reminder to the onlooker That the fame fruit is heavier On the enfeebled shoulder Than Atlas’s globe