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Gonna Ghost …so starts the repost.

Gonna Ghost …so starts the repost.

Gonna Ghost …so starts the repost.

Self Serving Time

I’ve had an alias
and an alibi
and spent some days
in a dungeon of two
make it three—four
pick any damn number

But quantifying ain’t
about everything
unless you rush
to paint blush
the digits


as some will sum
stanza one
says it all

aren’t they captured
in high relief
our final tally
a trompe l’oeil
the bottom line
an asterisk
that denotes

One Day At A Time

I’m going to start doing Sundays sober
with the Times unread
and the game unwatched
and pass on the beach
to stay off-line
and out of the bar

And if negating Sunday proves easy,
I’ll random walk a week
to annul, for instance,
Thursday, which
I’ve never really
cared for

On Sunday, after baseball, I take up song lyric writing. No foolin’. Moon and June to soon discover, same as last Sunday, that I have little talent in the area. Code, I can’t either. I sing others’ songs and use others’ apps. So it’s off to a small batch bourbon and the London Review Of Books. Where I read about others’ books.

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