Gates Picture

Close-up of sculpture by Jon Gatto with the poem:

Purgatory's Gates

1 to me at this point in time the idea of paying my dues to get in through the pearly gates has about as much appeal as buying a time share in some vastly obscure vacation spot in the off-off season with the possibility of reincarnation I probably wouldn't be able to get anyone to trade

2 what do people possibly talk about in heaven if only the pious who've spent their lives talking salvation get in what do they have to say once they've been saved do they suddenly develop an interest in cinema ? ? ?

3 I plan to go to hell everyone I know will be there I prefer it warm I'm sure I've already done enough evil to get in and they can't make eternity last any longer if I do a little more

A picture of the sculpture is here.

current events

how can we honor our dead
without
glorifying death

how can we celebrate their lives
without
celebrating their wars

a newsman has a lust
that must be satisfied

we are the beast he must feed

so when his voice is charged
with an ancient fervor
and when his eyes glint
with the light of old campfires
recognize yourself in his reflection

else throw yourself
before the stallions' hooves
a human wall of sacrifice
that says
it must stop here
it must stop now

for if we sit in circles
wringing our hands
those same hands
must practice the applause
we'll need to welcome home
our dead from war

Barbieshop

His mid-life crisis
was as predictable
as his male pattern baldness
each time his hairline
receded another inch
the age of his current companions
dropped a decade

as things go
by this calculation
were he to get hair transplants
he would have to start dating
my dead grandmother.

Be nice to girls in kindergarten
I told my then 8th grade son
if your scalp
is like your fathers'
those girls may
turn out to be
the mothers
of your future
girlfriends.

ba-al

this old god
did his best
to frighten me
he changed
from wood
to death
to stone
moss covered

still

I smiled
as features blurred
into darkness
inadequate
to task

perhaps

had he turned
to flame
he might have
accomplished
intention

I find
solace
in stillness
peace
renewal
contentment

the sight
of him there
unmoving
unmovable
only
made me laugh

possibilities

I wonder how I will die...

will I be surrounded
by loved ones
holding hands
kissing away tears
propped up on pillows
incense burning
candles aglow

or

will I be sitting alone
forcing out a poem
the way Elvis died
pushing out a poop

?

Message

I pick up my phone
I hear your voice
but I can't
make out the words

you are desperate
pleading with me
to understand

Do you need my help?
Perhaps
I am in danger

as hard as I try
nothing is clear
only a few words

a key

a drawer

a brown door

I can tell you are angry
at my garbled understanding
this emotion confuses me

more

I am paralyzed knowing
I will be on my own
to figure everything out