Short-Shrifted By The Muse

Listen up 

And see how 

The words roll 

Off your tongue one 

After the other no 

Longer.

 

 

Running Against The Clock

--to Kristine, for old time’s sake 

Biking by 

The cemetery—no 

Time to stop 

To say “hello” 

To all those 

We knew 

So well so 

Long ago— 

Some other time 

We’ll know better 

To stop 

And say “goodbye” once 

And for all it’s been 

Good to know you.

 

Far-out Anticipation Blues

Where everyone keeps 

Waxing extraordinarily about 

Total silence while waiting 

In the meantime 

For what seems 

A lifetime to hear it through 

All the clamor is really 

Something else— 

See you there?

 

 

Every Picture Tells A Story

You hope success- 

Fully— 

Like this black-and-white 

One for instance, starring 

A skinny blond kid 

In new coveralls fresh 

From the old 

Country, flexing his 

Wannabe Charles Atlas 

Biceps on a dock 

Of a lake near Montesano 

In Washington State, while 

In the immediate background, 

Two burly middle- 

Aged men also decked 

Out in coveralls are 

Getting ready 

To don their swimsuits so 

Maybe as to say “okay” 

To making a good old All-American 

Splash, too—go ahead, 

Kiddo, after you.

 

 

Once Upon A Discouraging Jackdaw's Word

oh that reverberating 

sharp staccato chattering 

of the splendid times 

we all had, gone 

before we knew it 

like a bat out

of hell and high 

water didn’t I tell you not to breathe a word of it, 

to just hold 

your breath, stop

your non-stop cawing 

and eat, 

crow?