poetry

More than they cause me

I woke and found fifty-seven me’s laying face down on my lawn …
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Until over is over again

After a small hiatus, the poet is back to work.
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Water will be spilled

In almost any battle, water will be spilled
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dissemination

I float in a sea of wanting, sculling my hands, treading need
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it turns out that

the end of days will be surprising for many reasons
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Approaching a distant planet

“All civilizations become either spacefaring or extinct.” Carl Sagan
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whatever

Be careful what you wish for
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imminent

Hate will starve at the end of days
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Murmuration

There’s a decent chance that the end of days will be caught on film
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Hotter

Someday it is going to get even hotter
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