Category: Poetry
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Post-Pink
Tasted true love discretely, professedas headlong prose,doing all we could & what we liked. The rain fell early— Post-pink; we’ve gone through this;on a mound of fog,raising my hat to the diamond, I wanted more. Dawn sewed through chainlink,aloft like heaven’s gate, Hope kicks hard; there is easehere knowing— I cannot find your name.
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Darkness, World, No Flame
No ideas no sparks no advancement. No way to see the future and no way to see the past. No passion to strive for more than being content with No moving pieces that we cannot change. I say…
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Juggler of Fire
Two torches one hot as a candle minutes from being extinguished. The other hot as a fire that has no end in site, amazement. Juggling, with fire. Burns me. I have to drop one I can drop the fire that will blow out in an instance …
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Children in the Trees
In the end, it never ends.There are red toads everywherethis summer and the children playthat game where they stomp them,then switch each other with hazelbranches and run to the forest beforeGod has a chance to see. You can’t reasonwith the brats and you can’t tell their fathers.What would you even say to their mothers,whose hands…
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Christmas Out On Route Thirty-three
Well, well, well, now just whatever did I see,Chuggin’ along out on old Route Thirty-three?A Panda Bear in a Honda – could it be?And he was pushing a big, old, blue RV. His paws on the steering wheel seemed out of place,As did the fuzzy smile on his fuzzy face,Beneath his Santa hat with a…
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The Old Neighborhood in Winter, A Villanelle
The marriage, the move, my divorce,Lovers come and gone, the children grownNow on city streets of joy and tears I walk alone. Some bungalows and Tudors in renovation,Others with lamp-lit windows where memories are sownMarriage, the move, my separation. I do not shed nostalgia, or weep at daysGone by. My memories are honed.These city streets…
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Retirement Reading
I read more now than I did whileI was teaching. I’m not joking: I can pick and choose from any shelf in my study, sans guilt, sans deadline, duty free. I read three cats’ minds. And my neighbor’s lips. The first and last pages of Finnegan’s Wake. Listen, just before tea I read the tag…
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Sign Read CLOSED
And yet, somehow, the day remained open.The bark you touched finished your thoughtslike a stiff drink. Sometimes, all you could think aboutwas a merry-go-round. Sometimes your eyes saw greyand looked like wood smoke. But this day was the colorof being pulled on, of driving too far East. A house, a house,another house, and then a…
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Cov-Son-19
Apologies to John Donne Lock down my brain, deep state Panopticus,Lest I run from thee and get off the grid.9/11, then stuxnet, now Covid:Methinks paranoia ran off with us,Like some inky squid with a damn octopus,Eyes, ears, here, there, battening down my lidWhere late my thinking lurked — a locked ward kidGone mad, an opioid…
