Bewitching both believers & cynics alike,

October casts its spell:

the unending fog dull bright mornings

as crimson leaves turn up dead.

October casts its spell:

The Blue Moon shows up twice

as crimson leaves turn up dead.

Dogs howl constantly like wild wolves

when the Blue Moon shows up twice

in the same wicked month.

Dogs howl constantly like wild wolves

while cool cats transform into tigers

in the same wicked month. 

Normal people assume different identities:

all the “cool cats” transform into tigers,

bewitching both believers & cynics alike.

The world is crazy enough

& we are now afraid of death,

of looking & sounding stupid,

while our unmasked muses

are now on vacation,

whooping it up,

getting high & drinking Caipirinhas

in South America,

while our pens & minds

stay sober, dry of imagination

& finding little hopeful inspiration—

as we swig

Pepto Bismol from tiny, plastic cups,

keeping last night’s dinner down

since today’s news is barely digestible.

Our angels are gone;

the devils are now sick—

I don’t remember you saying anything nice,

I thought when the weirdness began,

when Cheeto got ill

& the conspiracies took shape

(instant karma has got him,

warned the departed great John)

he still went out & infected

many more crowds who

hang on his twisted words & gestures

unashamedly unmasked,

without a care,

searching for any adoration.

They need to know I’m all right,

he probably reasoned, high

on extra oxygen and/or steroids,

but the infection continues to spread,

in super religious communities,

where brown & black people

gather and retain contact,

& the higher-up politicians

doing the Prez’s bidding.

I need to return to the White House,

he pressured his medical crew,

only thinking of his own image—

tarnished again by the press,

not because


No wonder I can’t write

anything substantial

while this shit is going on….