Monday, August 21, 2017


90% complete here. I knew it would get cooler, but I was surprised when Alabama summer went from nearly unbearable to pleasantly warm. If only that could continue for several more months! Punched holes in a cardboard box and looked at all of the bright crescents.


the venerable
Cambridge University Press
self-censors at the behest of tyrants
it is not science
or honest
if you only publish what politicians allow


Eclipse day
the sun disappears
perhaps forever
pray harder!

Sunday, August 20, 2017


bell: ripples
did you feel it too?
gravity records black-hole death


Ode to a Southern Summer

Winter blows from the vents
Summer streams in the windows
Eastern, then western

Cicadas' siren song
Drowns out everything
But the freight's warnings
"Stay offa my tracks, kid!"
Air holds you close
Like those wool comforters
You never needed down here
For only a half hour before dawn
You can breathe

If this crepuscular breeze
Could last all year!


Tech Gods

Lem stepped off the elevator and realized he didn't have any change. He slapped his pockets, looking for something smaller than a 10. Margie would kill him if he blew $10 on an elevator ride. She didn't believe in propitiating the gods anyway. “They wouldn't have given us this technology if they didn't want us to use it,” she always said. This attitude was why he hadn't been promoted beyond second-grade, he was sure, but try telling her that!

Someone nudged his arm. It was Jenelle, the new IT specialist whose office was still being painted. Someone had forgotten to propitiate the God of something or other and the painters had refused to work until it was taken care of. Jenelle was holding a nickel.

“Oh thanks,” Lem said. He dropped it in the brass dish, muttering "Thank you for this lift."

"How is your office coming?”

She frowned. “I'm still camped in the coffee room.”

“Share my office,” he said. That evening on his way home, Lem put $10 in a streetside kiosk dedicated to Libidos, patron of deceivers.

Margie was not affectionate, even downright cold. Could she read his mind?

Lem helped Jenelle carry the old wooden desk into his office. He moved his desk over so hers could fit in front of the window too. He emptied one drawer in his file cabinet for her. He couldn't help staring at her whenever he thought she wouldn't notice. As the days passed, her attire seemed skimpier and more transparent. All he could think about was her flesh moving under her blouse and skirt. In his fantasies, she wore nothing underneath.

One day they both stayed late. The floor was deserted. He closed the door, leaned on her desk. He looked her in the eye. "You know what I'm thinking," he said.
"I'll draw the curtains," she replied, and did.


"This was a high-dollar job," the inspector said. "The blood has been completely drained. Not the work of your standard succubus. He moved the extra desk into his office about three weeks ago?"

The office manager shrugged. "No one else wanted it. More room in the lounge. No idea why he wanted it in here."

The inspector rubbed his chin. "Any change in his behavior? Apart from the desk."

The office manager shook his head. "Nothing beyond staying late alone almost every night."

The office manager reached out to catch the inspector's sleeve as he turned to leave. "Who called the succubus?"

"It's usually the wife. That's where my money is."

Publ. Daily Cabal 2011

Saturday, August 19, 2017


Poem in the August (print) Scifaikuest.

DN 107 about ready to print.

Just proofed a book of my poetry and a chapbook of collaborative poetry.

Been writing new material.