{ I wrote this a few months after Hurricane Michael destroyed parts of Florida and Alabama. I grew up dealing with hurricanes. This is an effort to capture how a person might feel after one of these storms.}


Puddles fluoresce in now brilliant sunshine

We wade through them in agony and awe;

Broken structures ache

We hear their moans of creaking as wind still insults them;

Yesterday’s treasures now wastes of trash

That lie in piles

Soon to reek an acrid smell;

Sky still freaky ugly turquoise

Lost clouds, left behind, fly confused;

We marvel at destructive design

Weird beauty left scattered

By Wind

By Wave

By Weather

By Indiscriminate Chance.

Michael you have left a mess

Go join your sister Florence

In Atlantic dissipation:

We remain to struggle

To Rebuild

In The 


Disconnected Linguistic Diplomacy

December 10, 2018

I have nothing to say.

So when you listen you won't hear
Your own thoughts.

But then, when I do speak,
Still feel like
You are just listening to 
Your own thoughts.

When you finally do speak words
I feel them pushing and shoving
With deliberate force.
Woven from Pride and Desire,
Seemingly soft and consoling;
like Artillery they buffet me

Without warning I feel a barrage of needle sharp mental objects and
raise my Shield and take aim with my Artillery.

Logic and Reality have been blown apart and lost in the Chaos.

The clips are emptied and quiet prevails.
I have nothing to say.