Category: irony
-
Urban renewal
Cleaning what remains of summer You pick up an old board Move it to the curb for the city to haul away a lethargic anole clings to the underside Hoping the morning may warm it enough To gather its senses and find another place Where it can sleep off the tilting away from sun you…
-
Dear Rudy
Someone compared your fall from grace as being of Dostoyevskian proportions What do they have against Fyodor’s novels I am thinking Ayn Rand accepting her first social security check or Madoff standing in a prison lunch line is more apropos 8-8-21
-
waking haiku
what if all things are zen…and we are too numb to feel…too dumb to know? 7-6-21
-
Queuing at the Door, or, A Prayer for Bob Hinkle
—
by
1) Fold your hands, bow your head, Shut your eyes and pray I would try, but no one said how to pray Just how to act like praying I wanted to know where to go, how many Steps to take, how many doors to open 2) Dad would get angry, If you cheated and opened…
-
pressed cider
Mom had a friend from church who had a friend who had a cousin who sold fresh pressed cider in gallon jars at the end of his lane along the river road; she would buy a jug or two for cold evenings for a hot drink while watching Lawrence Welk. One weekend, she sent me…
-
Listen
Autumn comes slow lingers green A few tired leaves refuse to wait a killing frost Dress in yellow shrouds leap into air Unafraid of death Shut your eyes listen…..to Caress of limbs on way to ground Slow dry rain mocking, rustling laughter 10-21-20
-
Ayn Rand forgot to spit
Allied with the losing side of history Atlas was condemned to bear the sky upon his shoulders But sculptors didn’t get the memo and had him holdup a globe of the world I used to ask myself how is this possible To hold up the world while standing on a mountain on the western edge…
-
For E.M. Forster
Every room has a view even if it’s only four walls and door and appears to be a closet It doesn’t matter if you have a window or how you got in or how you go out Just know you can leave when you are ready Love does not follow norms it follows where it…
-
Canticle of bones
in the rain in a green field in homage of another time stands an abandoned house we know what kills a farm chases a family to the city but not what kills a whale that swims in a field of green ___ bleached bone corpse stripped of bark where children played swung on branches laughed…