We hear all the blatant lies
and see the swagger of the “wise guys,”
and ask, “Why, oh, why?”
Is it power to claim and maintain?
Most of these liars are staffers
who have many more smarts
than the president’s own
family can claim.
They must know the score
but are willing to sell their
soul for a simple pour
of Esau’s porridge.
Perhaps they are in it for the money
and eventually will shout, “See you
later, honey.”
Who knows? Both — power and money.
It’s like the Great Lake sea lamprey —
attaching themselves and sucking the
life out of fresh water fish,
but who, thankfully, are enticed
by pheromones to death’s destiny.
I hope the staffers know
enough to jump ship,
and reclaim their integrity
before they are accomplices to
the health care drowning of Americans —
millions upon millions upon millions
of their fellow citizens.
For power and money, people will do anything.
Let’s hope there are pheromones for that.
I can think of one — the junior Dr. Martin Luther King.

Yes, my dear, I did wear the Roman collar,
but to be perfectly clear, I was never very pious
and I don’t wish to put the blame on you,
my dear, for leading me so far astray
by showing me your perfectly
understandable promiscuous way,
but once I saw you, I couldn’t help but
holler, “Come on, girl, after the setting
of the sun, let’s make some hay!”

I watched a show about it on a PBS broadcast,
but I have not been to Yellowstone
or many other National Parks where wildlife roam,
and I would love to get to our national treasures while wildlife last.
In the meantime, I’m thankful to live for seven months each year
in a place where wildlife still roam —
black bear, fox (one seen just yesterday),
coyote, otters, deer galore
but, unfortunately, no poisonous snakes (at
least not in my county anymore) from a distance to adore.
The other five months are in Arizona where, to mention a few,
there are poisonous (Watch your step.) snakes galore,
and coyote and deer, jackrabbits,
tarantulas, scorpions and javelina — sows, piglets and boars.
My wife and I are thankful to be able still to enjoy flora and fauna diversity
and we have a bucket list of our wonderful National Parks to see,
so, United States Congress and the (Probably Fake) Federal Administration,
please keep your greedy, privatizing mitts off of all that public natural beauty — the treasure of our nation.

Yesterday, while wife Chris was finishing up work on her last day at a local, art gallery (Her work was accepted at another gallery in a delightful, tourist town along the Big Lake just down the road and where she doesn’t have to work.), I attended God’s blessing (no civil marriage) of a friend I have known since church camp, high school, jr. college and Hope College days.

The bride (the old friend) and her spouse-to-be hobbled to the chancel — she crippled from polio and he a 15% survivor of a “widow maker” heart attack. It was a joy to witness this affirmation of life and love in spite of adversity and at the same time jarring to look around and be among the “lame, the halt and the blind.”

As I sat at a table with people who had gotten there with walkers, I rubbed my now bald head, sighed and then tried to reassure myself by affirming that I had both jogged for half an hour and cycled ten miles the day before.

On the way to the church, I listened to a rebroadcast of the late Marian McPartland’s Piano Jazz and was taken back in time to a very sentimental place and many, many memories.

As I drove into the church parking lot, I gave thanks for the past in spite of the personal tragedies and for the fact that I would later stop off and buy Chris a slice of pizza and take it to her for a late lunch on her last day of work at the gallery she has been in for the last seven years.

In light of all the bad news, there are still good, tearful memories and joy over a wedding of two hopeful, old souls, a jog, a bike ride and a slice of pizza brought to my love.

I used to wear a clerical collar
and was such a pious man,
but then, thank the Lord,
I met you, my darling,
and now I no longer do or am.

It seems like the movies at
the DVD store are 90 % violent,
8 % slick, evangelical prop-
aganda disguised as commercial
movies and 2% porn, in a back
room, which probably accounts
for more in rentals and sales
than that of the other 98%.

It seems like every other
channel on cable TV is a
mindless, evangelical,
fundamentalist “personal
salvation in Jesus Christ”
gospel channel with the
majority of the rest being
dummy-down comedy or
violent films.

If the media is a reflection
of the state of our culture,
we are in dire straits.

So Congress wants to do
the only reasonable thing
to do faced with such dire
straits — cut funds to
Public Broadcasting  which
broadcasts award-winning
programs of the following:
news, educational programs
for children, cutting edge
science programs, nature
programs, top-notch, invest-
igative programs and arts
programming of music, visual
arts, drama and ballet.

Of course, in such dire
straits, what other course
of action could this Congress,
the guardian of our morals,
take?

Oh, yeah, the righteous
male Speaker of the House
can make sure the female
members of the House don’t
ever wear sleeveless blouses
or dresses. For shame, ladies.
Maybe it’s the chill air
that always seems to blow
through the chamber.

And while the “ever
popular among witless
fundamentalist Christians”
President is a notorious
serial adulterer who can’t
seem to keep his hands
off of women’s privates
and out of women’s pants,
at least we have the most
moral man in the country
in our Vice-President who
courageously refuses, as
a witness to his Lord and
Savior Jesus, to sit down
at the same table for dinner
with any woman, if his wife
is not present.

“Me thinks he does protest
too much.” Wonder what
he’s watching? A slick
evangelical flick? Naah.
One of those 2 percenters
with big rental and sales
numbers?

The dune grass blades sway
Less today than yesterday.
Trickster breeze teases.

Kokopelli breeze
grins from the top of the trees.
They sway as in play.

The dune grass looks up
in earnest supplication.
“Trickster, let us play.”

“Relax, gentle friends,
Perhaps on another day,
I will come and play.”

“Please make it today.”
Then the trickster left the trees.
Grass swayed in the breeze.

It is very quiet in my room.
I hear the dog breathing softly.
I look out the window and see
The dune grass stretch and wave to me
Briskly – good morning.
I see the sun’s reflection off
The blades. They glisten.
Later, I will ride my bicycle
Past them and I will say,
“Good afternoon.” They will
sway a wave goodbye.
If all goes as planned, in the
Evening as the sun sets, lifting
Off the blades of grass,
I will wish them
All a good night.
In the dim light,
I will see them wave back.

Esau was famished and sold his
birthright to Jacob for a pot of porridge.
The Donald is greedy and owes
his bank account to a mortgage
owned by Putin
and is about to sell America’s birthright
for next to nothin’.
The Russian mafia boss now controls
the pathetic, American wannabe mob boss celebrity.
Forty dissidents have been killed
in Russia deliberately
in three years.
How many will die in America
fostering fears upon fears?
These are two peas in a pod
both leaders of respective mobs.
Idiot, American, conservative evangelicals
love both these mafia bosses
and will stand by their prejudices
no matter the human losses.
Civil liberties are being eroded
day by day
to the pleasure of dumb-ass,
nitwit, Northern and Southern whites
who say they pray
but sell their souls
for less than Esau’s porridge
but just continue like Balaam’s
ass, but unfortunately for the wrong
reasons, to bray.

In light of this federal administration
to my fiction and mysteries I flee
in order for a few hours each day
I might feel confident the issue will be
resolved peacefully and I may breathe free.