any american

like any american

she was in debt

in the wealthiest country in the world

pressing the last bit out toothpaste out of the roll

easy with cash 

when she was drunk


alternate sky

being American

was wonderful


over a water blue

and under an alternate sky

we sucked on red 

hot sweet 


century HK

as a kid in Germany

he tangled with hitler youth

in 1938 got out alive

enlisted in WWII with the Allies

got a gold star tracking down gestapo in his homeland

went on a sociopolitical 

lean. advisor to every US administration imaginable!

2022 kicks back in New England

working on a century

recorded by the 



american farm


into your production

up at scratch every morning

intermittent flapping of eyelash

your ineffable ways 

like the moon but not a phase

ina daze you amaze 

every harvest  


a chance

waking up 

useful and alive and awake

with a chance. come what may

every american

oughta be given this



katya reads #30

world of black of white

The beauty in being American was and still is the freedom to set your sights on a lifestyle you dream for yourself and go after it with all your spirit and cleverness and nerve. The hurt you feel when you fail is yours and yours, alone. Maybe it will lead to a dead end street and bar or romance. An ashtray full of butts. 24 hours of loneliness can be hell. And then your back in the game, if you’re young, the world is black and white.

death of a weekend

I get an eerie sensation on a sunday night  standing on the precipice of the death of a weekend. I get the kind of rattled only a vanilla shake in an American diner can quell, listening to Elvis on the jukebox with friends, in a booth upholstered in automotive leather, flirting and killing off time.

made american

I was made American

One shoreline will never do

I need two


Life gets better with wind

and rain and all the idol rock stars

sucked into the muddy banks

of sound


early morning americans

struck a balance with all, in the city in the summer after dawn, when the morning bird was heard and the sun at eye level, playin hide and seek behind deciduous trees, while the cat trailed you partways to the cafés, and the barista knew your name without asking, and the statesman laughed and folded his newspaper and nary a phone was ringing, the time was reserved for a church bell and silence. americas were thick with technology, in the cables in the air, and you wouldn’t need to care in the early, early mornings. in the city on the streets, face values appreciated and if you looked past the wheels and the burden of homes that were carried, you were sure to find an honesty and goodness that survived any standing recession, knew more than money and politics combined, and had a penchant for pastimes of early morning. as deep as any faith, the devotion. rise and shine, america!

k. early morning devotée