Sesame Seeds

Tasteless adjunct

The purpose of which

Goes unnoticed

Among

The flood of

Fast-food feasters

Who never lose

Grip

On their bun

For Pity's Sake

Pity the rich man

Pity the

Poor

Pity the beautiful

And for different reasons

Pity the plain

The strong

The weak

The bold

The meek

All deserve some pity

Too

Pity the failure and

The successful

And tailor

Your pity toward those who've

Known neither

Feel sorry for the one in front

And the underdog

For pity is the string that

Ties us

To another's cause

'Til it's too late to see

The net

To which the string belongs

Breath

Not a one-time

Shot

Into the lungs of Adam

But an inhale

Exhale

Suspending atoms

As if you were on your back

Keeping afloat

A wisp of universe

A feather of

Existence

If you held it in for

Just a beat

All would return to

Dust

They Still Build Trains

In a world of jets and

Electric cars

Satellites

And deep space probes

To slap out a rhythm

On rails as old as

Great grandfathers

The world will move on

Inevitably

When the only light on the dusty

Rolling mill

Comes streaming through smoky windows

Who will mourn the loss of such a

Glorious metaphor?

Without You

I lean a little

To the left

Or right

As if

I'm missing something

A rib

Perhaps

Memphis

Sleeps in the day

Dreams of

Itinerants

Tourists who stay

In downtown

Hotels

And move shade to shade

But the evening

Blues

Has called her awake

And she

Jeweled in neon

And modestly draped

In her black-water

Wrap

Hosts a thousand

Soirees

Old Dog

Wandering again through each

Stale room

Looking for what

He knows

The man who gives him food

Who talks to him and

Strokes him by the chair

He knows the startling

Snap

Of its footrest

He knows the loud

TV

And the push and pull of snoring at night

But he doesn't know the somber one who

Now fills his bowl

Now talks to him soft and

Childlike

He doesn't understand the empty chair

The quiet nights

The silent

TV

Or where they took his man

Still asleep