In these wee
hours of morning 
when we you 
and me wee
and giggle amidst
tickles and senseless 
inside jokes and 
just a bit 
of love’s insanity 
we wee glee
under covers cover
we chase searching 
for arm or
foot or face 
capturing hearts and 
planting flags on
lips declaring sovereignty 
for you and 
me and all
of this are
we in this 
land of wee

Sadness has 
covered me 
like a 
wet blanket 
that not
even the 
campfire of
levity can 
penetrate dour
and damp 
I shiver
beneath the 
weight of 
my uncertainty 
sleep will
never come 
rather these
circling thoughts 
like vultures 
overhead waiting 
to pick
upon the 
corpse of 
my now
cold optimism 

I now
a statue 
in some 
infrequently strolled 
park tucked
far away 
down some 
lonely lane 
having been 
recently moved 
maybe removed 
to give 
way to 
art or
fountain or
other things 
meant to 
inspire rather 
than admire 

Come on cuppa
kindly kick in
I’ve been standing 
behind the horse
tickling its flanks 
waiting and waiting 
for its leg
to snap back 
and the caffeine 
to finally land 
I have things 
to do and 
places to go 
come on cuppa 
gimme a whack

Some days 
it’s like 
fingers in
ears keeping 
out noise
and a
bunch of
lalala’s to 
stave off 
the static 
and chatter 
from the 
mouths of 
chaos hoping 
to find 
some silence 
a bath
of reconciliation 
and relief 
and recovery