Another School Shooting

without a second thought an ar-15

without a second thought the nra

without a second thought platitudes

wheel spokes of ar-15s

a circle of ar-15s shoot at the centre

an ar-15 shoots off its mouth

right to mouth off the nra

an ar-15 because i can

open carry platitudes poured on tap

life you’re fired

morning constitutional right to kill

nra empowering your inner darkness since 1871

another round of spent shells of prayers and condolences

the poet

the poet dwells
at a safe distance
from words

the poet
pussyfoots around
the utter brink

the poet paces out
the sound of space
in-waiting

the poet
hot off the press
goes silent

the poet goes
dum-de-dum-de-dum
between breaths

the poet
pads out
the silences

the poet
lipsynchs his reflection
in tranquility

the poet
skirts the edges
of relevance

the poet
rattles off
his mortal coil

the poet at home
with the loneliness
of a long-distance runner

the poet
scratches the imagined limits
of his horizons

the poet
feathers
his nest egg

the poet
measures his success
in tossed panties

the poet loses
his daytime job
to the moon

the poet quickens
to the sound
of his own voice

the poet
strikes a pose
off its pedestal

the poet
plays out
the party line

the poet weeps
as sound and sense end
his abstinence

the poet
resurrects
a moment

the poet
loses himself
in his words

a disintergrative dearth

 
her myrrh
embalms for now
the murmur
 
humours
in healthy balance
hear the word
 
her need
(indeed only one)
she pours over 
the word
 
one death ends
with a word 
anointed
for its tomb
 
the word ‘poor’ always
and the word to be 
no more
among us
 
a word dies 
because it does not die
on her lips
 
emptied
of itself
the skin of words
 
sleep in-turning death’s portal

The Flying Pope meets Neon Buddha

the flying pope
and the neon buddha
back to back
 
in his quiet moments
the flying pope becomes
a neon buddha
 
killing
a neon buddha
the flying pope
 
attainable 
only through the flying pope
neon buddha-hood
 
stripped of kigo
the neon buddha becomes
a flying pope
 
from time to time
the flying pope circles 
the neon buddha
 
the pope flying
a neon buddha
at half mast
 
flying in the face of reason
the pope’s neon buddha-hood
 
into a grain of sand
the flying pope projects
a neon buddha
 
the flying pope
with outstretched arms
to the neon buddha

Lamentation

doublespeak
all could be ill
or well

 

self-imaged
Atlas shrugs off
a fountainhead

 

on an orange ass
“the masters of mankind”
trumpet their anthem

 

behind the ass
crying “look at me, look at me”,
“destroy destroy destroy”

 

pre-emptive strike
against the earth
and their other