I sit in your desert
As a stone
Your dry breath
Does not enter my bones

All things around me
Ebb under your
Great vanity leveling
A vision of blood strata

Each day is the day
After the days of vengeance
There is no peace for travelers
But I have cast my spell

Let her only see
My blood, my bones and a skull
And keep in the deep
My faith, my strength and philosophies

The headline:  Students March In Protest
I watched the mob saunter (excuse me), march
Until the disciplined driver delivered the pizzas
Isn't it funny how anarchy is
Trumped by processed cheese and precisely placed pepperonis at that age?

The headline:  Students March In Protest
So I did, loudly
Just like I protested to my landlord
When the ants marched into my cupboard last summer
Now that was marching
The pranksters penalized my protests
By lifting my leftover pizza.

The headline:  Students March In Protest
February has more snow, April has more blooms
Why would student's mind March's protest?
Besides, they are taking a break in March
From all of their marching and protesting and pizza eating
Before it is even spring.

A Working Man Looks At A Piece Of Glitter

Tomorrow I use a different machine
Without glitter caught in the mesh
The speakers never spoke to me, but the glitter gabbed life
From dust of a special day desire designed to refresh

It shimmers like a star, along some special angled azimuth
A mulling light which plummeted to earth
To twinkle, there is life "out there"
Now staring at me as a chuckling cycloptic eye of mirth

Tomorrow some new eyes will see
A machine much the same, though lent some litter
For I cannot hope to leave my ward of self-immurement
I can only hope to leave them glitter

Laugh away you old crone
Cackle and caw your contentment
The withering wisdom you wear
Wafts your cozening

I sear the sky as a shooting sun
A leonine lodestar of loons
And zephyr of fabled fools
You so scorn

Chance

After fourteen years
You finally asked me my intentions
"Why take a chance," you said
So you cast the clock
Over the cloud

By what assumed
Impersonal purpose
Did you call me before you
And tease me with
The chance of a lifetime

You were right
Not to take your chance on me
For I am a man of free will
An unpredictable element
Au fait to my causes

But beware the limits of your precision
For you may chance to learn
Clouds are clocks who are free
And what you so carefully chose
Is merely a cuckoo