Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The Quickening

...... to test the teeth of what, the beast,

laughter, languid from the toil, the breath of

hatred and of rage, attesting to this mortal coil?

twixted the patterns, twine and tweed,

whistling at the pretty deed,

amen for fasting from all thoughts,

that could wager from their greed.

helas the marketeer and his race, gave pause

to the man with a mask on his face, to pay the

dues and seal his fate, from the tax of his head

to the bargaining plate,

on wall street, that's where walls cave in,

a shot in the dark, or a stale-air win?

freemason, freeman, marching home,

the cotton-pickers fate could not be known,

and if in his flesh he burdens right,

the burning of his brightest flight,

across the ocean, once in a score,

to collect a debt or debit some more,

perhaps the phrase "time and again,"

were words that could have soothed him then.....

checkers and chess, failure at best,

the cow lays down, her utters to rest,

filthy scorn, and laughter from adores,

twelfth hour setting on the lawn in a storm......

Friday, March 11, 2011


The wind whispered cries, but the men paid them no mind. Shelter was a long forgotten notion, and the dead were but a foundation upon which shame and indignation were to build. If only men's minds were like earthquakes, and would themselves subside, perhaps we could clear a path through the fog of terror. But here, with so much up for grabs, Tantalus, himself, it seems, had arrived to over-see the operation.