Draft #5, Week 15

Sunday Night Dinner

The driveway is empty and cold
except for the spot covered by
the lone newspaper on the block.
A quick flip through this week's headlines
find that we are made fools of Global Warming's
effect on Icebergs. The headlines
of budget crisis' cruse and divide our
table like last week's collection call
about our Macy's dining room furniture bill.

These stories, give way to
tender moments we share as our
tiny child holds his head steady like
the Sears Tower -wait- that is just a
memory, renamed for some corporation shelling
out promises for America.

TV, radios, even Windex attempt
to clean our latest familiar transgressions of
trusting one another. These situations
force us to evaluate our communication
as archaic and unreliable like the gold standard
debate in last week's New York Times.

Draft #4

Our Hitchock Childhood

Though we're nowhere near Mount Rushmore,
little snot-nosed pre-teens,
still we imagine Cary Grant granting us
the train's commotion, the great prize
of our coming here.

For here is not the many-storied
buildings of London or even the lost
and decrepit tenements of New York.
No. Here, is my neighbor's house,
which we're tee-peeing.

Bombs of two-ply
hang limply over Spanish Moss
like sheets over a miss-sized bed.
We move around to avoid
the watchful eyes of the night birds.

Sally contemplates
the act of malice as
the Malathion of her childhood
forces her to reconsider time
spent in trivial arguments.

The marauders return
under cover of yellow street lights
as they avoid the gaze
of "mother" as they climb
back in the safety on Bates street.

Draft #3, Week 13

Sunday Night Dinner

We are made fools of lastest news
of Global Warming. Last week's newspaper cruses and divides
Our table once again with meaningless election results.
Our mouths rap with nonsense, and
hating nonsense, or sense, like last week's collection call
about our Macy’s dining room furniture bill.

Yet, tender moments we share as
Our tiny child holds his head steady
Like the Sears Tower-wait-the Sears Tower
is just a memory like Paul Harvey’s Rest of the Story.

Windex bottles of Meth attempt
to clean our latest familiar transgressions of
trusting one another. but even drugs force us
to evaluate our methods of communication
as archaic and unreliable.

Draft #2, Week 11

This is from a poem I wrote way back in like week 4. I just kept the idea of the childhood, and really expanded it.


Battle of the Bulge

Friday’s bell singles the resumption
Of World War II. First stop,
Pearl Harbor on the shores of the Coosa River
with Jimmy subbing as Admiral Hirohito.

As night fall, the kamikazes pilots
Reanimate back on Mr. Irwin’s
back porch with smells of a summer barbeque
and wafts of macadamia nut cookies.

The campaign is over for the day, so the
soldiers draft back to fortified bunk-beds
filled with goodies from last week’s “bank heist.”

Saturday’s sun transports Mark and his merry gang
To the future. Wrigleyville is a buzz as its time for
Game 7. Chants of “Lets go Cubs, Lets go Cubs”
rise softly as the players take their places in the
cul-de-sac on 7th street.

The brick and Ivy are replaced with vinyl siding and
Mrs. Johnson’s cotton topped azaleas. The crowd noise
Dampens as Tim steps to the plate. The pitch,
Low and outside, just like a replay played out with
an accompanying Sports Center highlight.

As he rounds third, a rusty man-hole cover,
bleecher bums throw stale beer on each other,
the vision fades to be replayed,same time next week,
but its John’s turn to be the hero.

The celebration is short-lived as I sit bathed
in vertical splashes of purple, green and brown
on Sunday with a man, dressed in black, keeping
the primal world contained for at least another hymn.

Draft #1, Week 10

Our Hitchock Childhood

Cary Grant points out the train's commotion,
like we are some great prize.
Little snot-nosed pre-teens devour
the many-storied buildings like a
hungry beat in autumn.

My insides shift, like my 1986
red Tercel on the Pacific Coast Highway.
Sally's mixes the pesticide of of her
childhood in circular motions.
The latest privilege lies in the fact
that Jimmy Stewart spies on our nocturnal
adventures of tee peeing my neighbors house.

Calisthenics, Week 9

No more chains or letters
That you gave me were Enough to
erase craving of nachos without cheese.
Something sweet, so delightful, gives
Us all a useful escape from yesterday’s reality.
Silly patterns that we follow
pull us through escalators filled with oranges
I'm being swallowed by the ones
that hate Tuesdays, but love Mondays.
They pull you down streets that haven’t been touched
by street sweepers.

Manipulation is the key
to quality control devices that
teach use the future, while forgetting the past
that leads us to Detriot's 8-Mile.

Junkyard Quotes 1-4, Week 9

My husband said he needed more space. So I locked him outside. -- Roseanne

Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what the hell happened. -- Unknown

Start every day off with a smile and get it over with. -- W. C. Fields

The trouble with being punctual is that nobody's there to appreciate it. -- Franklin P. Jones