I designated a driver: myself
because I wanted to arrive alive
with a family of work-relations
who wanted to continue the wake
for our co-worker who’s still
sending out auto-replies. Continue reading “In Vino Veritas”
Bright Spot in a Dark Commute
A bank called Friend
A cyclist going the wrong way
Buildings loom in their neo colonial backlit splendor
Let Your Child Skip School And You’ll Be Talking to the DA
a sign tells us from the parking lot of a casino the Governor couldn’t shut down
And there are signs everywhere: personal injury lawyers,
drugs, promises to help break bad habits.
Nightmare-ish
I only wish I were chased by gorgons, or succubi.
Instead, it’s Bob from accounting, and he’s fully clothed,
asking me to use algebra to figure out what account to put a sale in. Continue reading “Nightmare-ish”
April – poetry month
I should really try to post every day this month, shouldn’t I?
Is it a coincidence that it starts with April fools day?
First iPad post
My fingers keep trying to feel for a keyboard that isn’t really there
but the image of it responds somewhat as if it is.
I say somewhat because it’s like driving over an icy road
which sometimes turns into a bridge without warning,
sometimes changes in unexpected context.
I eke out a corrected 10 WPM,
giddy as when I first logged onto a BBS.
Limerick: A Young Maid in a Shoe
There was a young maid in a shoe
Who didn’t know just what to do.
She went several places
They undid her laces.
And children soon lived in it too!
Haiku: from my iPhone during orchestra practice
No time to write, but
time to sit and let the tune
go on without me.
Prophecy
You’ll be coming off three days on the night shift
when you realize there was no sugar
in the bottom of the cup, no bottom
of the cup for that matter. Sometime
after your last 12-step meeting
you’ll know you’ll always walk wounded,
limp home. Those wounds in your hands
won’t heal; they’ll be a sign to all,
especially you. You’ll walk around clean,
feeling the hole in your own side,
wondering if this was the glorious
resurrection promised.
published around 2005 in the now defunct web journal, The New Pantagruel
Second Sunday, Standard Time
The evening falls hard at five o’clock,
Twelve hours after waking up in darkness.
I’ve spent the week too busy to work on time,
or understanding how it falls on me.
Only today have I seen the pink dawn
on the last red rose in her neglected garden.
Sestina: Blues Clues
Sestina: Blue’s Clues
What the past three years have been I don’t remember,
only that the now is taken up with Steve and a dog, Blue,
a sort of surrogate mother for our children, who look for clues
while Mommy, like me, is busy doing something. Think
though we might, we won’t recall that something later.
But Steve is kind, assuring them they can be anything
that they want to be. Continue reading “Sestina: Blues Clues”
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