The following is a small sample of poems written
 between November 2017 and January 2018.
The Devil’s Penthouse.

What doth the beast dream?
What specter visits his tower?
Would such a visage cause him to scream?
Or are they all sugar plums made of power?

Do they dance in his mind?
Do they sing of his deeds?
Do they urge him to be kind?
Do they plant only more evil seeds?

All of these.
All of these.
Follow leaves.
Part of trees.
All of these.
All of these.
Couching pleas.
Property, seize.

Go in.
Go in.
All sin.
Their kin.
Go in.
Go in.
No win.
Nothin’.




Russian Bot Squad.

Without effort I find the holes.
I slip past with no resistance.
Like a shoe that was made for me.
It isn’t just a single instance.

I’m always in this ironic place.
Moving forward while others linger.
I’m fast but not too fast, you see.
I keep it steady with my middle finger.

It’s a matter of offense.
Offending those that come to fight.
I shrug them off logistically now,
Don’t be too shady, I’m about to bite.

No propaganda.
No nonsense media.
No conmen waiting.
With their lies to feed ya.

Just gaps in the matrix.
Openings in the system.
Work-arounds around society.
Hacks of the minds, easily best ‘em.

Just a moment, gotcha.
All things for Katya?
Making tiny bread, focaccia.
We got you, fool, caught ya.




Train Knot

Staring up at the ledge over my head.
Dodging stones wishing me dead.
This rope.
This handhold.
A noose?
A closing door?

Hoping for safety in a burning tree.
Firefighters laugh at my dying plea.
This branch.
 This union collar.
A noose?
A closing door?

Collapsing steel, buckling concrete.
Bloody faces scream in retreat.
This rail?
This crossing.
A noose?
A closing door?