Oag.dc
Look at the mad period needy
("Rainbow Body" detail, 2018, original encaustic)
Today I noticed on a website I use for book reviews
All eight of my poetry books
Suddenly have a fresh new one star review.
Sadly though there is no content to these reviews
Nothing to sink my teeth into and learn from
Just a single star
Which simply means, “I hate it.”
But these are the first reviews or ratings
I have ever received in ten years now
Of publishing poems
So I will take it
Mostly because I have no choice.
It is a free world after all
And so if we engage with it
We shouldn’t be surprised
When it engages back.
The beauty of getting only one star reviews
Of course is it doesn’t get my hopes up
Hopes of becoming rich and famous
Influential and significant
Because I know, especially now,
None of that would be true.
(9/15/25)
Adjacent profits are gained in purchase of information
Non profit lobby hides, assemblies
And congressional lobby laborers
Caught in data shortage
Corrupt a report purchasing shares of
Corruptible budget items
Obstructing legislation
Creating false pretense for arrest
Arrest of defined confine
The hide
The title
The bonds ageing interest
Non profit
Must eat here at specified time
In thousand oaks California
Only at eves Arch, after days end
In Ventura at Catholic charities
The food reception is all day Charity
And none are required
Available coordinates for investigative
Journalists
Publicly available languages
Public Library
Fade deep into another place
Public Library
New vocabulary
Stay focused on learning
Pen to paper, observing
With morning coffee steaming
Error to grammar
Comprehension toward knowledge
Sink into an existing book
Quiet place away from home
Learn as much as you can
Sharpen your mental skills
Be creative
Rendered in a story
Write your own journey
Document your life
You might be famous one day
At first his anger was hotter than July
Or, rather, he was plundered by the weight of
Sorrow —heavier than the ice of January;
The kind of stolid ice that thickened Niagara Falls
Like frozen soup.
He was tall and lissome, bespectacled, in
Dark suits, a brown hat, worn-out shoes of fraternity.
A folded umbrella accompanied him like a touring child.
No wristwatch.
He doesn’t wear them.
Asked why, he normally replies, “There are many public clocks”.
Stocks have plunged
Every expert he asked shared the same opinion?
Stocks are like seesaws —
They rise and fall.
Before then he had assumed that “rise-and-fall”
Was only for dictators,
And of course empires.
And every public clock he glanced up at
Had the same opinion on time? it ticks away,
Slowly, but perfectly.
And if you want to do time,
Then hurry over life importunately.
Your mood changes depending on the time of day
In the morning most are restless with nothing to say
In the afternoon that when the annoyance starts
With loud school kids and drunks from liquor marts
You try your best not to give too much eye contact
It's loud cell phone conversations behind your back
The seats are constantly signed by a street gang
So-called men won't get up for the elderly in pain
There's always passengers who want to ride for free
And seem to bother others and won't let them be
Parents get on the bus with strollers big as beds
Also there's the deranged that didn't take their meds
Anger is always displayed by someone's bad speech
The stop requested cord is always to far to reach
Then you have the strange ones who likes to stare
Sometimes riding the bus can be a total nightmare
in the form of the readymade, now occupies a place in the void, you look at the size of this dewdrop & remember Andy Warhol, who was the first to begin this session in Tate Britain
Praying Over Food In Public
Carry on the tradition.
Praying over your food in public.
Don’t be ashamed of his name.
Don’t worry about what strangers say.
Carry the cross.
You don’t answer to the flesh at the end.
Show by example.
Spiritual nourishment is parallel.
Pass down your value.
Be humble at the table.
Thank him for each day.
Be grateful for many blessings.
A public market lures you in
With local food and drink.
From farms to people it provides
A most delicious link.
The booths are filled with produce,
Meats and dairy (lots of cheese!)
And often freshly-captured seafood,
All arranged to please.
Of course, there will be ethnic food,
Enticing with its spices
And sandwiches and pizzas
Offered at amazing prices.
My favorites are the baked goods -
Cupcakes, cookies, cakes and pies
And the home-made candies, ‘specially
The chocolates (no surprise).
There may be hats and t-shirts
Advertising local pride,
For a public market’s sure to leave
Us all quite satisfied.
The trash bag at my door—gone, someone took it.
In the shared hall, I see a ghost from years ago.
A glance, three short lines, one long breath—
We look at each other like catching, releasing ghosts.
Do we both think the other’s faking it?
The line between man and phantom is only light.
A few ghost-words, truth-words—thank you—
Thanks to her, crossing over to hand me a napkin.
And antibiotics? A hospital chief stopped them all.
The ICU patients with lung disease began to heal.
The rest of the doctors fell silent,
Stopped asking why. That’s ghost talk.
A gust of wind becomes cloud.
A small illness, a ghost beneath the skin.
For optimum health, take a bus or train.
It's a good plan when it doesn't rain.
You'll save money and the environment. Heck,
you won't even get in a wreck.
Roots tangled in the soil,
Truth withers in shadowed light,
Answerability falls.
©bfa042425
If there’s one bold public offense
few people are likely to countenance
with a welcomed tolerance
or neutral facial appearance
and guarantees a consequence
of a sudden public disturbance,
it’s letting loose a bout of stench
(politely known as flatulence)
cowardly released in silence
in a crowd compactly dense
with noses sniffing vengeance
on the culprit’s loutish impudence
his/her face masked in innocense!
I wonder how addled your brain has to be
to want to suffer the slinging insults of buffoonery
Tv news showing how cartoonery
reality has become
Each reporter is up to tomfoolery as they
dig to the bottom to find something newsworthy
like a skeleton hanging in the closet of your nursery
Or a pirate lover with scurvy
What a pervy
They will dig and dig until they find your sin
If you didn’t do it they will make it up
Like, way back when he was only ten,
his great grandfather once stole a watermelon from Farmer Ben.
His dad found out and made him
work it off in chores
made him promise not to do it again
but that won’t make the evening
news because sensationalism is the only values
that matter to us all.
Voices calm the storm,
Shielding fragile, hopeless hearts—
Justice finds its voice.
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