Third day back at work 

in the New Year,

& still, no one’s here.

No good vibrations to play off of—

Even the IT guy on Monday was spooked:

“Dude, it’s too quiet! How can you stand it?”

The knives of the mind are dulled by silence.

Meditation quiets the mind.

But then my muses are bound & gagged

until I stop breathing deep—

I am hungry for voices outside.

Someone’s coming in!

Brain’s now sharper;

I am well again.

She has tempted us before with her skills.

Butter, sugar, flour, salt – what a master baker!

But it was already almost the end of the day;

not a single, fragrant gingerbread Brad 

was to be seen, smelt or tasted.

Will there be chocolate 

laced with orange peel?

Or liquored-up with peppermint rum,

as we curious minds want to lick

& get our midday buzz on…

Homemade fudge? Butterscotch bark?

A nutty delight? Cinnamon Snickerdoodles?

Anticipation’s making me 

(crazy) late & ravenous

Will she be here tomorrow,

the demigoddess of holiday treats?

Snow coming in fast and deep.

Holiday cheer is everywhere.

Even with debt, giving is a good thing,

whether it’s time, love or money.

Holiday cheer is everywhere!

Loved ones are waiting for you—

whether it’s time, love or money,

keep moving—it’s cold outside!

Loved ones are waiting for you.

Constant Comment tea now brewing;

keep moving—it’s cold outside,

but warm sex is on the menu!

Constant Comment tea now brewing;

snow coming in fast and deep

but warm sex is on the menu—

Even with debt, giving is a good thing.

A good, Chag Urim Sameach, we wish for you,

& whatever wishes that might come true—

Next year, in Jerusalem—next year, we’ll be here

together, unmasked—this year, we’re still here

safe & cozy, frying & Zooming with family:

thankful we have each other to talk with, sing & to see. 

Can’t wait to light up the lights

for these 8 crazy nights!

We wish to be healthy & safe this holiday season,

& that love is all around, that’s the reason.

When bones are no longer alive,

flesh is cut away, cleaned by sharp teeth

as hungry humans and animals gather to give thanks. 

Even when loved ones meet up virtually  

flesh is cut away, cleaned by sharp teeth.

Zooming hot with bellies and hearts full—

Even when loved ones meet virtually, 

the world begins at the dining table.

Zooming hot with bellies and hearts full;

when other babies are born, and secrets and news are shared,

the world begins at the dining table.

We will remember our loved ones gone

when other babies are born, and secrets and news are shared

as hungry humans and animals gather to give thanks. 

We will remember our loved ones gone

when our bones are no longer alive.

They raise sheep in Indiana;

that’s why Mr. Cheetos Shithead

is winning there—a long night

awaits the wicked and the pure believers. 

Blue power is not enough to win the brass ring

of politics. Last time we lost hard,

and it might take weeks to mull over

and count every single American vote.

Don’t know—don’t be afraid of the pain, 

the meditation masters have said—

but the scars of Nixon, the Bushes and Cheeto 

still cut our country deep; red blood gushing 

for many years in the Senate. The blood 

of the dead by COVID is not swept up, sanitized, forgotten. 

We won’t forget 2020 for many decades and centuries; 

instant karma will come to collect the ruffians, 

empty their pockets of influence. 

But election night in 2016 almost promised a Democratic victory. 

Many hearts were pulverized and broken—

all we can do is wait; waiting is the hardest part.

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

OF HIS OWN STUPIDITY

No wonder I can’t write

anything substantial

while this shit is going on….