Ajax Kallistrate

Artistic expression sustains the soul.
Economic servility destroys it.

February 21, 2025

I've forgotten the company of trees,
I thought, overwhelmed by
profound sadness.

No, came your wise reply, old stump,
colored by ancient humor,
patient affection.
You have
remembered 
the company of trees.

August 10, 2025

Blue sky are you really blue;
deceptive plane, scattered
photons masking stars
and infinite space.

Or is that a lie too?

White clouds are you really
white; false shapes, a
collection of liquids
luring the
un-
conscious
mind into fantasies
of gods and monsters
and a meaningful life.

And I know that's a lie!

Dogs eat dogs.
There is no
Heaven
and
we
walk on
two legs only
out of shame.

I can't see the sky,
the clouds.

Grass
is a green mystery
littered with needles.

I go it alone most of the time,
leashed. Tamed to dys-
function.

Branded.
Suffering.

The
pangs
of an internalized
clock shake
my head
like
a
palsied
geriatric in middle age.

I can't go it alone,

I say to myself,
out loud, a
bus stop
savant
in
ragged
clothes im
too tired to repair,
too poor to replace.

I circle the drain
in an industrial
sky.
My
clouds are
concrete shoes.

I am not blue.
I am not white.

I am human
and
in-
human;
animal,
livestock,
laborer,
servant,
slave.

Deduct that from my pay!

I'm whipped.
I cower.
I can't
see
the sky.

Blue sky,
blue
sky
are you
really blue?

April 30, 2025

as vivid at a distance as photo-
graphs, indifferent prints
up close, in and out
of
focus,
these nine sigils
i bought at the mall
one optimistic afternoon, 

a woodland retreat,
a farmhouse,
a country cottage,
a fishing cabin,
a single-story suburban,
an alpine sanctuary, 
a formal colonial,
a summer house,
a hunting lodge,

nine consessions to
faith,
to

autumn leaves,
to a lake view,
to pink flowers,
a shingled roof,
smooth stones,
a rough hewn fence,
an arched porch,
snow muffled evergreens,
warm lights in the windows,

to
a home
for he and i,
to rest and security,
contentment, prosperity,
sanctuary, solitude,
peace and stability,

nine lenses to focus
purpose, intent,
desire, energy,
momentum,
potential,
thoughts,
words,
acts,
to
manifest

running water,
red ribbons,
stone chimney,
cedar wood,
fir,
manicured landscaping,
wildflowers,
filigree cornice,
wicker chair

to
find
grace,
snow melt,
butter yellow
curtains, footfalls
and laughter,
we can,
should,
will,
diverge
from this real
space to an imaginary
space to one of one dimension
to a mental picture
refracted by
the prism
of
intent
and purpose
and desire, and
transform potential
energy into kinetic
energy and reveal
a hundred
hundred million
choices that will
coalesce once more
into real space and time
and in time unfurl bloom
open enclose enfold
our little family,
our place,
our purpose,
our knowledge,
our understanding
and wisdom, and
bring us home.

December 17, 2024

Time is the servant of the Jew. 
When it dominates your life 
so are you.

May 21, 2025

Our riches lie beneath the great vault
of Heaven
and
above
the good green Earth below. 

May 21, 2025

hot day in the middle of May
i'm home but i can't
escape the
Kronos
tone
of
a
hundred
thousand slaves
clocking in clocking out
and my alarm is set
for 4am so i can
stand in place
for eight
hours
and
earn just
enough fiat
to scratch out
a living without joy
without hope to build
a better future at 51 it's
a wall i want to hang
myself from that
inescapable
prison
of
brutality
drained
dry
by
le
happy
parasites
wedged into
every crack and
crevice of Albany
and Washington D.C.

merciless wretches!

feasting at my family
table served first
and last while
one meal
a day
sustains
these two
narrow feet
carrying four days
of groceries six blocks
on a back broken by
a hundred years of
money changing
grifts that
defeated
the best
and
noblest
among us and left
a ruinous civilization
behind in decline toward
a universal slavery of
ignorance and
despair
that
will
crush
what remains
of us beneath the weight
of the inhuman machine
that turns work into
home and won't
let go of my
mind on
a hot
day
in
the
middle
of May when
all i can hear is the
chemical endorphin
trigger trick of the
Kronos tone.

May 16, 2025

the uncanny valley is a curtained
   alcove
   behind which
   someone has died.

is it a friend or a stranger?

should you anticipate shock
   followed by grief? or
   relief followed
   by shame?

you do not know,
   and so
   you
   suffer.

May 2, 2025

so long as i can,
   with all my heart,
   say,

'I did all I could,'

i can close my eyes
   —at last!—
   at
   the end
   of the day.

April 23, 2025