Showcases of Color with Respect to Advertisement

An explosion, origins unverified, erupted from the pond. Clumps of algae broke apart from each other and followed the current, collided with sunfish and bluegill carcasses floating belly up, reflecting full color spectrum off their scales, to combat the black of their dead eyes.

Sitcom streamed through Hulu paused on a commercial break, Tide Pods stayed the screen in their familiar orange hue, nobody blinked.

Furnace whistled, enticed the hamster to expose herself to lamp light gleaming from the opposite end of the room, staging the profile of her cage to cast over her red eyes.

The pond was asking for it. “It” detailing the criteria for murder and the decryption of judgement balancing desire and circumstance within the act itself.

Sitcom staged a human reaction and invited the audience to react based upon the context of the material as if they were mannequins dressed in designer clothes and holding mirrors, inviting models to check for malfunctions in their reflections, displaying the same duds as the mannequins themselves.  

Furnace whistle is reminiscent of Neanderthals shrieking in reaction to vermin scampering along the stone floor. Who doesn’t love a good tune?

Death to the Cash Cow

Crucifix secured to string, dangled from Aseop’s neck, removed and left on his end table, next to his rocking chair and settling in to teeter, he placed a cold soda inside the string spiral. Aluminum can adjusted to different temperatures, perspired and left a ring of moisture behind as Aseop lifted the soda, took a gulp and set it back down. Flames jutted from his furnace, decorated the drip coming off the soda-can in ember polka dots. His partner, Jeddidah, walked into the living room, heaved a sigh. 

“I’ve done it.” Jedidah said.

“Done what?” Aesop questioned. 

“I done it…I done it…Hell…I named our cow.” 

Aesop shook his head in disapproval, heaved a sigh of his own, but unleashed it through his nostrils. 

“Why’d you go do something like that?” He asked.

“I don’t know…Claudia…that’s her name…Claudia…she was looking at me with these eyes, glossed over, looking like…hell…remember when we released those balloons at Paul’s wedding and one of ‘em hit that power-line and sparks flew everywhere?”

Aesop nodded in agreement.

“Her eyes looked like that. Full of electricity, but meant for a different purpose, like they were saying something to me about love.” 

Aesop peered over at his crucifix, a tiny puddle had formed underneath Jesus, pairing that atop the glass, it looked as if he was floating. 

“You ain’t going to be able to kill, what’d you call her?”


“Claudia. You ain’t going to be able to kill Claudia now.”

“I know.”

“Shoot. You know it’s easier just to kill ‘em than watch ‘em die slowly. Where’s the love in that?” 

“I don’t know…maybe I’ll fall out of love and be able to kill her.”

“Meat will go rotten by then.” 

“She’ll be our cash cow then…our Golden Calf.” 

Aesop raised from his chair, strode to Jedidiah’s side, pulled him close and kissed him. 

“I love you to death.” He said.

Names for Time and Place?

The alphabet described itself, during the dry season, when warring tribes found themselves negotiating flesh for food, still moments which caused a Big-Person to stare up at the tree tops and wonder what it all means, a moment for words. Blinked, the line broke, songbirds interrupted with exclamation points and the trail curling through dense shrubbery functioned as the prototype for the first letter. 

Passing along the sidewalk, encountering empty lots, finding the right words to describe a moment without tree tops. Police sirens deplete serenity, replace it with miniscule showcases of dry season, all too human, antics.  Ink trails presented in sequence, conscript the TA-DA! of empty motions. Stationed where concrete recedes and shoreline depicts the horizon, ducks dip underneath the water, interrupt the Moon staring at its reflected blemishes, dark ripples break the surface, a duck submerges, obliterates silence by quacking. 

(There’s no pleasure given in naming the sequence, but how else are we to appreciate what happened? Alignment of a period piece counteracts with morality required in real-time.) 

Checking the wristwatch. Again. It’s midnight, but it felt as if yesterday was named instead. 

Ode 2 @ Slumlord

Guillotine altered its gadgetry to include recycled windows,

With paneling leased  

And cared for by a slumlord. 

Though the slumlord 

Was unaware he’d sacrifice his neck 

To unite warring tribes,

The onset of global unity 

Is war. Closed doors hearken for stowaway insects, 

Who plant their fangs 

Into equal flesh 

As if they were Americans 

Embedding their flag in moonrock. 

But ignoring the tonal ambivalence 

Of plastic creased against 

A rock (empty shampoo bottles)

And a hard place (carpet samples) 

Requires clarity from 

Objects posting shadows

To prove their anatomical 


Neck breaks occur during times of unrest,

It’s when we’re sleeping that triple chins 

Harbor muscles unknown 

To combat their lucky break. 

3rd Eye (candy)

Gasp diluted by dust ridden inhales,

Bargaining for acid tongue surplus


Melt the fat that’s

Ravaging the pontificator’s

Chapped lips. 

Orchestral articulation 

Aligns escaping carbonation 

With antidepressants

Shaken about 

Inside mouths 

Matching the orange 

From whence the bottle birthed. 

Triangle pulse predicts pitch, 

Sequences tissue rhythms 

To contend against 

Papers soaked in old soda,

Escaping out the car 

And scampering down the block,

Afraid of American freedoms.


Gatherer tribes begot 

Consumer culture

By combining resources 

And luxuriating by the fire. 

Sharing false claims of 

The GODS’ forever is tomorrow 


Worship places the parishioner  

Outside Walmart at 3am 

During a pandemic 

To purchase the same color palette 

They ignore for free.

Negotiating Progress

French surrealists portrayed love affairs between prostitutes and Bohemians as dedications to absurdity.
Absurd is advising a monkey to consume a banana due to its yellow pigment.
Affection is repetitive
And a
Marketing genius secured a condom dispenser above a urinal
Dedicated blank canvases for hire along the interstate and highways, promoting All You Can Eat Buffets, Evangelical services highlighted in blue neon, but Adult Novelty Stores attribute maturity to plastic pricks and movies demonstrating how a plumber may fix more than the pipes. Affection is repetitive.
Problem of negation suggests consumers consider marshmallows, shaped like fantasy charms, added to sugar coated oat flakes to be an enhancement for breakfast cereal.
Baroque composers dedicated 150 years to violin solos.
George Washington refused the title of King.
Indoor plumbing encircles news tickers, spotlights strip parked cars of their shadows
And refurbish anxieties
To pull the plug if necessary. Affection is repetitive
And humans love repetition.

Room for Solitude


Detailing repetition, envious of the rips in wallpaper, competing against the bleach stained cotton decorating the mattress shared among peasants and 30.00 dollar sacrifices to metal coils and in the mortal coil too. 


Sustains the living word, designates purpose for speech patterns rectified by dry throat assumption, blathering about and exposing the finer details of having nothing important to say.


Stays past midnight, functions to tie dye the shadows designating space to withdraw at the complexion of day-time shows and extend to the floor paneling after the rerun actors recite their dialogue like politicians addressing the nation based on the teleprompters advice. 


Delivers on its promises. 


Discovered and given names to establish company as something one discovers out of necessity. 


Another reason to call home.

Appearing to welcome 

Numbing the purpose 

Asking more of nothing than the space will give

Opposites are Infinite


Opposites are infinite 

A namesake shared 


Relishes the idiosyncrasies  

Of free speech


By marketing procedures 

Posits streets named after white people

To billboards celebrating 

Their government names 

Age takes tomorrow

Questions the contradiction

Inherit in repetition 


At the applegrove a man bonked his head on low hanging fruit

He patted down his pockets to reveal the touch of corrective lenses

But he forgot them and had to rely on his eyes to navigate 




He went home 

12 bruises richer

Baptism by Fire

Ten smiles break over the horizon

Chipped bone contributes to a hallucination 

Sky lettered 

In reactionary politics

Breath of clouds

Sky sighs 

Studying textures via touch 

Learned experience 

Gains recognition 


As its opposite? 

Rectifying the ambient jangle

Incites the bargain match


Piercing stares 

And the monk 

Who happens upon God

In her clouds

Both are fascinated 

Design patterns 

In order of 

What makes sense

(foregone conclusion

decides balance is omnipotent) 

Water washes out

What the fire burned

Both elements can baptize 

freedom to borrow

Sapphire remnants target the blister, mutating to callus and Dog-ear a page made of flesh containing words written by labor. 

Floodlights direct affection for towering infernos, encased in glass, melting to apprehend the flames displayed within. 

Sweat. Sweat. 

The brutish hymnal resounds throughout the hollowed Earth. 

Different glass possesses subtler options of slow moving umph. 

Yellow iris poking a hole through the kaleidoscope, observing the sparkling frost designs held against dawnlight,

Or the tomato soup can given away at the food pantry, placed on the windowpane 

Contending with the wood screws to relevancy to martyrs come and gone. 

At the apex of crosswalk, stoplight and sidewalk ramp a man pushes his suitcase on wheels, pauses and twirls to take in the apartments gleaming yellow from atop their homes. He’s thinking of going home too.

Once he finds it.