Fire and Rain Running: Saying “No” to an Intimate’s Manipulations

featured in the poetry forum August 16, 2011  :: 0 comments

Bespeak softly, Dear; see fire and rain running
Jointly insane. Not even your quick cunning
Could have dulled this pain. It’s better I explain
Why, when blended, flame plus hail stuns.

Eye Light, Northern Blaze, Sweet Hazy Glow,
Flashing Sentiment, Bane of Darkness, My Heart’s Show,
Your bright, coal orbs heat so-so, meet
My needs in part, but beyond your rage, you know

Combined with raindrops, those tears that glisten,
That rioting of viscera makes me listen,
Search, seek, implore for more and better
Means to push away your clouds plus prevent your misting.

Fire plus rain, Darling, dizzies, corrupts, stains,
Water-fed conflagrations, confused parts, remain
Difficult, like acid, send me raving, turn me mad
Heat, water, jiggered together, tend to strain.

A Glossy Coat of Guarantees

featured in the poetry forum July 6, 2011  :: 0 comments

A glossy coat of guarantees
Provides no permanent home
For perky political causality.
Affairs of state could improve situations,
Would natural silliness cease, perhaps,
To elate hurt like shepherds castrating sheep.
There’s enough gold in these hills for all such fools,
Without their resorting to caustic rhetoric.

Eating broken glass, from time to time,
Sprouts troubles reserved for the likes of axolotls,
Tuataras, and giant salamanders, which, when
Imprisoned in zoological gardens, look
Longingly toward the tree tops, where
Their reptilian eyes alight on habitats occupied
By guans, hammerkops, and whale-headed storks,
Prevented from trafficking with sun or clouds.

Communal affairs would need no handling.
If congregants took care of “the wet stuff;”
Our imagined mansions, jobs, and food bills
Could shrink toward the horizon line,
Restricted, for satisfying durations,
Like so many artists’ wares piled up at the shuk.
Yet, our public managers elect to transverse clear lines.
We remain governed by alien intentions.

Keeping Imaginary Hedgehogs Trim via Liberal Politics

featured in the poetry forum June 18, 2011  :: 0 comments

It’s possible to keep imaginary hedgehogs trim by making them do push-ups,
By flailing those who fail to work out the matchmaking machinations
xxxof “twaddle” and “xylophone,”
Moreover, by running them past families of dust bunnies,
xxxwho otherwise contently breed beneath sofas,
Through wooded profundities, alongside of business entities,
xxxin the middle of calculus homework,
Together with odd representations of life, including umbrae, penumbrae, and antumbrae.

Likewise, today’s technology affords the rescue of frightened chimeras;
Amidst personal bumbling, we can extract myths instead of cottoning our frustrating
Inability to convey the morals of night classes, of barstool warmth, of park benches.
Horned critters, their eggs excepted, future husbands,
xxxalso dogs, remain redeemable via grim mentations,
Like: baseball stats, worldwide electronics, budgie cages,
xxxghostwriting, plus psychology primers.

Gelatinous monsters, of course, will be rescued,
xxxsaved among types of heinous outworlders,
Since their palpable lessons bring to the fore notions that
xxxmonstrosities composed of feral beasts, too,
Will be saved when belly dancing, home birthing,
xxxtincturing herbal medicine, or eschewing our race,
Nullifies Earthly wrong-doing, to the tune of our near genocide;
xxxsuch insights warrant reward.
Despite their colony’s limited habitable land, heroes can’t have too many hatchlings.

What’s more, academic fortes, keen on criticizing ancient rhetorical theories,
Promise to legitimize hedgerows and two-timing algae,
xxxto provide footnotes at the speed of sound,
To concern themselves with the mortal danger
xxxcurrently associated with reptilian modes of neglect.
Middle-aged women, mothers, spouses, too,
xxxwill have to foreswear to fair play with aficionados
Insistent upon exit interviews, upon shedding boring writing, upon basket weaving.

The Checkpoint’s Closed

June 11, 2011  :: 0 comments

The checkpoint’s closed.
Our young soldiers,
Foaming over contested turf,
Stymied by executive orders,
Have been relocated.

“Indigenous” cousins, though,
Capitulate not one single apartment,
Ask new roads,
Covet our “sheep pens,”
Also, our women.

No media banner
According to several million true bloods,
Is worth kowtowing to cowards,
Forgetting historic strictures,
Sidling over the edge of decency.

If I brought a plastic gun into a bank,
Ran the works on YouTube,
Called it art,
Claimed nearsightedness, perhaps economic stupidity,
Would I win?

Modern submission’s more than marching toward Birkenau.
Today, we’re to regard, as small payment,
Land, loved ones, ideals.
Unlike photo moments,
Peace ain’t priceless.

That Great, Wonderful Boom

featured in the poetry forum May 8, 2011  :: 0 comments

The dismissal bell resounded, rang
Across rooms, halls, playgrounds.
Music boomed where:
Parents waited,
Bus drivers talked,
Crossing guards,
Animated for service,
Checked their visors.

My watch misted.
Three antiquated hands aligned;
Hour, minute, second.
Passed over mental sleeping bags
Beyond cognitive boxes
Housing local news,
Real estate finds,
Next door neighbors’ dalliances.

Boredom makes semantics relative,
Among holy teachers.
Our time’s measured in tests and in graces
Which reject life chapters
Spread fully open,
Like rutting teenagers, who
Take leisure at bus stops,
Playgrounds, coffee houses.

Rather, we clerics’ small, intrepid voices must
Mark rustic cabins’ acreage,
Limits how immense swimming pools can grow,
Structure late night debates
On paying electric bills or mortgage,
On cell phone tones,
On chimeless texting
On maraudering coworkers.

Tamed, such matters
Slink into closets,
Hide under desks,
Get erased at recess,
Best, they’re relocated young.
Meanwhile, dark, anticipated pleasures
Wait until fully flowered
Or when the bell rings.


featured in the poetry forum March 22, 2011  :: 0 comments

Dried prom flowers, worn photographs,
Ticket fragments, echoed laughs
Crumpled scripts, paper slips
Fragmented leaves, snail shells
Belled mirrors with tinsel stars,
Tufts of alley cat fur.

Antimacassars, all, opposed to making space,
Thwarting, efficiently, existent
Computer communications,
Unflinching deterring drunk chip activity
By dint of forgotten pasttimes’
Brittle hurt of subversive words,

Such unavoidable contexts terminate
Talk; they might even rhetorically stymie
Whimsy’s wayward, positive social function
Impoverishing, en route,

Core dilemmas’ resolute sister,
Whose many small virtues easily collapse.

Recollections weigh in as gold
When society’s dirty work remains
Incomplete, supped together
With open source publishing,
Demoralized conversations,
Gap years, and lost dreams.