an orange aisan beetle,

which looks a lot
like a lady bug
crawls over our
white window frame towards
another fallen
beetle
long dead from
the early winter
cold.

miraculously,
this one beetle
is crawling with vigor
from the rarely
opened
winter window
on an unusually warm
day towards
some unknown destination.

i heard these
are stubborn bugs
that don't die
easily and can overtake
a home and this little
beetle has proved that
darwin is alive and pumping
above all of
this midwestern political
rhetoric
of creationism
and fiction.

Relative Poem

young faces of relatives

hang on our walls

and black iron shelves

as reminders

that if we are lucky,

or unlucky enough,

we will lose our youth

and have

the photos of our fancy to relive

the days when our organs liked each other.

all of the dashing glances,

vigorous smiles,

new hair,

non-sagging parts,

clean skin,

crisp clothes,

dapper smiles

have all given way to the future

and the

fact that our bodies

don't like

what happens

next and the past doesn't like us

in the present.

i believe

in

the might of the picture

to immortalize

us in ways that will help

our eroding brain remember

that the only thing mightier that the past,

present

or future

is the love we create

and cultvate on this

ever advancing existence

that blares forward

with all the voracity of time

as we once

used to remember.

New Joefiles 114 is Out

The new volume - curly queued daydreams - is available by clicking here - a sample poem below:

gaining gusto in aging

within
the last
several
months
i have taken
a moment extra
to look
at the obituary section
of the local paper.
maybe an old friend,
or someone i used to work
with will show up in these
back pages
and i'll have that
one moment of shock
to rescue me from
the taste of coffee
and work

and responsibility
to reflect on
what this life is all about.
the potential end
displayed in ink,
giving all us obituary
readers that
brief moment
to refocus our day on
what should
really be in focus.
and when
i close that paper flap
and know that
it was full
of loving strangers
that will no longer
co-habitate
earth with me
anymore,
i wonder
who from my past i may run into today.

Brief Poetry Food Art

Mailbox Truism

subdued war beaten

all of the faces
sauntering at the
downtown veteran's day
parade
looked weary,
beaten by the
constant lying
we have had
to endure for
way too long.

still cloaked
in small town adoration
and ready to give
us the shirts
off their backs to
support a
war without reason,
these patriots
believe
in the way of america,
but they hide
their contempt.

instead,
they bleed this
fatigue
through their
tiny waving flags,
red flowers,
and popped corn,
telling everyone
that they
don't even believe
in freedom
anymore.

instead,
they believe
in each other
and our motives
to stand in
that cold missouri
wind at ten AM
on a new, sunny morning
to tell
those that
almost died
that we are glad
they are here
in their 57 chevy's
waving at our
kids
careening
towards the
gray ground
to pick up
their bright
stack of
discharged
candy.

The 113th Volume

The newest Joefiles 113 - "a mission to understand our sky' - click here to view .. - a sample poem below:

FORGOTTEN MONDAYS
each monday
morning
i have a freshly
wrapped
summation
of our world's news
in a thin
plastic bag,
i delight in
this accidental
delivery
from a hung-over
paper delivery
dude that
forgot that
Sunday ended
and everyone
was reluctantly
going into yet
another
week that
makes us
long for one
more Sunday
night
drink.