I am now posting, in order, the first poems of my first book—one of twelve to be published this year. The first book is called Monochromatics and is an exploration of the ever-popular pathetic fallacy.


airplanes pose in the sky
pregnant dream from far away
they slip into sight
imponderable urges
thrust on engines
measured in thousands of pounds
memories of how slow we are
how our dreams are


to predict the pattern
of prime numbers
refer to the alphabet
simple as 1, 2, 3
what comes next?
do you know? what to expect?
of course you do


apples should not be in this book
they are not even a thing
but apples’ lawyer wrote a letter
and this, as a result, is a poem about apples:

apples are not like animals
they do not make good pets
even if you put them on a leash
or play ball with them …
apples are not at all like pets
no one would make sauce
or a pie out of a pet


some are the same
some are different
and each one
an individual

bar be que

next to wood
we like to burn


a promise
but not a guarantee


perversion of imagery
hoard of stolen need
the bride’s insane desire
ends in world conflagration
or the moment somebody’s mouth
spits all over the dream


where the team
sits you
when you don’t do
what would put you in prison
if you did it

the bomb

the bomb is there because we want it
we love the bomb, it excites us
the bomb won’t embarrass you in front of your friends
the bomb is the smart thing to do
the bomb is an egg
the bomb is a big lie
the bomb is a message in the air
the bomb is your best friend

a million times a night
an explosion in your dreams
the bomb is our mother, our father, our family
the bomb will stay up with you all night
if you are scared, or sick, or lonely
the bomb is a dog that will fetch a stick
dumb and dependable, the bomb will do what you tell it to do

the bomb is always with us
we invited the bomb in
and now we can’t get it off the sofa
the party is over
and the bomb has drunk all the beer
we are very thirsty
we want the bomb to go home
you think the bomb doesn’t know that?
the bomb resents our attitude
the bomb wants us to get behind it
after all the bomb is only human

the bomb is just doing its job
a job no one else will do
the bomb loves its work
it’s what it was born to do
and it’s our responsibility
we accepted the bomb
made it one of the family
we can’t turn our back on the bomb now
the bomb didn’t ask to be the bomb
we can’t just close our eyes and wish it away

perhaps the bomb should be retrained
the bomb would make a great psychiatrist
after all the bomb needs us as well
the bomb doesn’t want to be left alone
the bomb would like the party to continue
we love the bomb—it excites us


(When you come to the site you will see I have already started and have put up two of the books. I didn’t understand the difference between pages and posts when I started. So I am starting again. Mea culpa.)