poetry

On the Other Side of the Glass

poetry

You must have missed the memo.
It’s October 26th, but there you are
wobbling over the reflection of my face in the window—
squeezing out intermittent bleeped blinks of morse code.
Does your light keep you safe from the cold?
You must have thick skin, or exoskeleton, I guess.
Poor firefly, head south for winter,
go stuff your tiny belly full of firefly food,
go hibernate or go do whatever fireflies do.
Whir your wings feathery fragile to where the rest have gone.
It won’t get any warmer.

Considerations For Future Existentialism

poetry

Commoners surround
snorting gasoline boxing jaws
running the better parts
deep in to oblivion
no concern for humanity
no concern for empathy
no empathy, not to be confused
with the emphatic snorting
of gasoline and boxing jaws
and annihilation of goodness
but if my friend is really correct
they won’t stop before
all good things are
annihilated.
What a thrilling notion.

And Here We Are

poetry

The joke was crass and rude
but I can see her smile through
her shaking head as she turns
away, veritably fuming.

The sun was brighter before
the clouds blew in, but here
they are and here we are beneath.
At least we don’t need sunscreen
on these grayer sorts of days.

But cutting out remainders
like an elementary mathematics
course, we find ourselves divided.
What reason to keep standing
shaking heads, even if she’s turned away?

Or is the point half the joke?

Sometimes You Just Have To Suck It Up

poetry

Every once in a while, 
(More often if you’re not careful)
It doesn’t turn out like you planned. 

The pour misses, 
The spout miscalcuates,
The cup teeters (and falls).
Worst of all there’s a crack or tear. 

The waters sploshes along the tabletop.
The iced-tea splatters on the counter.
The Kool-Aid (of myriad colors) stains the tablecloth.
The orange juice slunks over the sink. 
The Pepsi simmers on the linoleum.

But sometimes you just have to slurp it up,
Cause what’s the use of crying over spilled milk
When it’s still perfectly good anyway?

A few simpler Uses.

poetry

Invisibility,
a trick worth learning
for all purposes
excluding tax evasion.

You could abscond
with candy at a liquor store
or rule the roost at
Capture the Flag.

Back-door men and
Sneakerpimps would
benefit, too, but
the only two certainties in life
are Death and taxes,
and mark my long-winded,
erroneous words:

invisible or not,
the I.R.S. Will find you.

Jokes

poetry

muscles clenched
eyes squeezed shut
waiting for the
punchline
waiting for the
point
and the
punchline

excuses for ideology
are excuses nonetheless
and rather idyllic to boot

Best wait for the
punchline
and the
point
and the
punchline

Sometimes,
it’s a long wait.

a picture is all you need

poetry

a picture is all you need
when you’re yearning for the past

like my bike ride to work
and the dim nowhere sky

the booze in the autmn
leaves
it’s been a year

it’s been a year

or the party with the crazy guy
the one who knew
your perverted friend

and the yellow colored
lights in their house

file errors

you can almost smell the
girls,
on your bed
flipping you off
on a laptop

or the ones of you trashed
by yourself
bloody-nosed
in the mirror
in your bathroom
all alone

followed by the dead foliage
pricker bushes
and nasty landscape
of the lot behind
the parking lot of
your hellish old,

whatever,

a picture is all you need.

God Made Noses to be Picked, Otherwise He Would Have Made Fingers Fatter or Nostrils Smaller

poetry

Beside the stroller,
Petting zoo’s spectacles temporarily forgotten;
Wheat-brown palms find their destination;
Protuberant pupils slant in concentration;
Tongue set between taut lips.

No miner’s tools—no light necessary;
Digging deep with precision—cache in the offing;
Explores, pinpoints, delivers.

Bashful mirth—victory coo; a toddler’s smile;
He extends a stout fingertip, smothered moist, green algae;
Offering exhibition of his treasure, nonpareil.

i took a leap today

poetry

writing using words
folks far superior to me i know it’s hard to imagine
to request in clear but big words
details with the same hands that write poetry
about programs for which it’s highly unlikely i’m qualified
for further education you’d think i’d quit at some point
and hoping against hope
for acceptance when this same writer is rejected from just about everything
or at least and the least really isn’t too little to ask
for patience a seldom recognized saintly gift
in understanding clear communication is for writers of prose

Shores

poetry

Salty sea breezes
I’ve heard tell of such things,
though it’s quite a march to find them,
and March is half a calendar-year away.

Souls blow in, I reckon.
Whisping across cheeks and thighs
and other barer skins and through
the hair and through the heart
of things.

Confused, I imagine, for some
salty sea breeze.
Perhaps a bit less briny.

Peeling the Orange

poetry

The palpable scent—
Sweet, sickly,
heavy,
Clings to weigh down hydrogen,
citrus molecules,
Barometric pressure.

Discarded rinds—
Sliding, peeled
with grasps, gasps, gentle tug,
separating soft slices,
taste exotic fare.

Rinds redolent of potpourried sweat
tropical fruit—
Delicious, dripping bare.