We call them shifts, for work is to change yourself, the forks, the job we adjust and rearrange. The work’s much more than a waiting game, it only starts with welcome and here’s my name. We’re back in the business of busyness: daily hosting, packing and bussing mess! Serving versus scores of mouths to feed, who knows what’s in store or what they need. The doors soon open, the easy window’s closing, that gentle ambiance should be composing. Now time to pick up the pace, pick up the plates, there’s no idle rest or want for those who wait! So minus the menus of their muck and mire, stack dishes, cups and lids a little higher. Any glass half empty shouldn’t last, lest you or your table finish fast! Fill full sweet sauce from the source! People in my way? Prep another course! Want a tip? Phone it in! Serve the role! Gotcha grin? So busy I have to table this and that; God forbid if customers want to chat! Fix disorder and that order as we slow! To come here is to get theirs to-go! Easy now, take a ten, fuel back up. Eat a bit, remember your cup. Unagi is a ready state of mind, for quicker eels are not left behind when the workload becomes unkind!

over dried ridges of acrylic my finger traces, idyllic in a swirling, colorful dance a mind and surface entrance these tender brushstrokes lain layers of lush cloaks across grand sweeping plains presence of kernels and veins another, dressed in scales i must resist the details even ugly guardrails I resign touch upon a feeling divine from rough flakes to mistakes i follow close to the wakes and when i’m due to depart my finger keeps the glimmer of art and the paint a piece of my heart

Last night I stood firm against that beast’s searing stare; I showed them no fear.

I dream of days finer than fine Good days unprompted by indulgence of wine Some say satisfaction must be sought out Others think the pursuit leaves you without It’s ok to say “It’s ok to frown” But how ok am I really, all the way down Want to want? Need to need? Every permutation leaves me ill at ease. Is poetry a way to help myself cope Or a crumb for a malnourished mope? Maybe if I closed the blinds I’d seek some sunshine Whether I have a lot Or I have a little I fear I’ll feel stuck in the middle So many questions, no answers real, I want more than this one way to feel

Black and white, perhaps Heritage of flight, it flaps The Birthright Collapse

Inter me within all my garbage So when I enter heaven My garb shortens the wait The weight of all my sinning Mistakes in my beginning But how the middle thinnens As flaws’ ends have yet to near Much too near my nadir A day near still inside me This I know will sigh me On some future day My mother names me humble And then she grumbles humbug Because I dare to mumble “It’s easy with no virtues” Followed by a shrug I’d try to end this better But this I threw together Through 3 AM this morning Mourning our hours past Passed another minute An other way to spin it Knitten from the loose strands Those thoughts left in misused and’s And so I’ll leave an ‘and’ for That second chance I’m after Til all the questions dance more And I finally say the ans-

One hundred twenty one thousand, Seven hundred Seventy-seven

My words don’t float like a wood thrush’s song: too heavy, too steady, too many, too wrong. My eyes don’t share how I did when I was young: too deep to seep beyond my tongue. The machines can dream more than I can; does that make me more or less of a man? My thoughts emerge as cubes and spheres: shapes too simple to represent fears My cares cling to me like sweat from my pores: Until I’m done, how my poor portals pour These edges of my mind are far too defined. Can I ever say what I’d like to convey? I don’t know if I can cry like I used to I don’t think I should sigh like I’m used to Lonely years, months and days I refused to Admit these heavy chains I’ve been fused to Here I am, one more year, having used two Here I am, all this pain, what I’ve reduced to Here I am, still unsure how to choose to

A boy and a turtle and a stream Together, happy as sun beams They swim through shallow waters, Sing sad songs about fathers A boy and a turtle and a stream A boy and a turtle in the sun The days, they relish one by one Sounds of splashing laughter And cozy naps right after A boy and a turtle and their dreams A boy and a turtle on the rocks Both worried, both thinking ‘bout the clock When will the waters cool down What’s happened to my hometown A boy and a turtle as time streams A boy and a turtle hold to hope Together, they help each other cope This isn’t what I wanted But won’t live a life so haunted A boy and a turtle and extremes A boy and a turtle and a pond Quiet, who knows what lies beyond I hope that it’s enough for you A lovely place, there’s room for two A boy and a turtle and their seams A boy and a turtle intertwined Those days, they had to leave behind I wish you were here with me My love is more than memory A boy and a turtle and a stream