Literally "Right As Rain"

Timeworn yes but still she 
Reigns over like similes easily, 

Rolling alliteratively right along 
Our parched drooping tongues, 

I tell you she’s a long, cool rain goddess 
Storming towards us in a pelting 

Sheet of sleet with nothing 
But a sleek red headdress on. 

Adamantine Bauble

Indeed, 
The poem may be 

Many things, even 
A thing to gawk at 

At one’s ease and pleasure, 
But it will never be 

Something you can do with 
As you please. 

Artfully Good-For-Nothing Dodger

Way beyond redemption, the worst 
Thing you can do now is try 

Better to trump yourself again 
By claiming you’re an exemption.

National Enquirer

                    the good news of the day 

Most mornings 
We rise ready 

To wonder 

How wondrous 
The twilight will be.  


                    flip side of the coin 

Punch-drunk on Twitter, we just 
Roll over, stay in bed and wonder 

What to make of the next round 
Of squiggles crawling up the wall. 

Happy Days Are Here Again

—for Kristine, who requested a “happy” one. 

If we had dared 
Say we were happy when 
Such days as these 
Came and went and we 
Just kept on hoping 
Everything would go 
On being the same, 
Who would have believed 
Us and how much 
Of what we had said 
Would we have changed? 

Why I Was Unable To Write A Proper Valentine's Day Poem

Self, on that timeworn day, 
Like many other wretched 

Days like today, I could not love 
You or any other suffering 

Kindred souls, do send some 
Loving my wretched way. 

Vindication Of The Faultless Standard Compass Bearers

This one’s for you, Magnifico 
Of the North, because 
Your mind was forever off somewhere south 
Of the border when we told you your notion 
Of true north was never that true, 

That you should look at everything 
Around you askance to see 
What’s really lying out there 
And always in plain view—in this instance,
Lodged between the whites of your eyes, the end 

Result of a mind-blowing bushwhacking 
Just for you. 

Venture Capitalist Pigging Out In The Commodities Abattoir

You’re forever 
On the lookout, your snout 

Twitching in the animal 
Air, ever wary 

Of the news the cutting 
Edge feeder conveying you 

Home on a cold slab of bacon 
Will always be there. 

Romantic Beyond The Shadow Of A Doubt

After a long day spent 
Asking never-ending questions 
To see if I’m deserving 
Of my state, now in the darkening 
Twilight, the slightest wind-swept
Brush of burnished gray-brown hair 
Cross her steady unassuming gaze 
Reminds me it’s best I let the light, 
That incredible uplifting light of hers 
That never seems to end, 
Sweep my every doubt away,
Leaving me alone to cherish my fate. 


 

MIA

Come what may, 
Till you come back victorious 
From the dead, let’s drink 
To nothing 

So full of empty 
Promises you never 
Knew what 
You were missing, 

You who dared 
Give yourself away.


 

Four-Year-Old Old World Ephemeral*

The sense you wish 
You could convey but can’t 

Remains full of aromas 
Of a too brief childhood spent 

Amidst ancient ineffable odors 
Too soon whisked away. 












*US passport issued June 8, 1948,
Patras, Greece.

Zero Visibility On The Horizon

Oh, snooty one who knows 
It all, tell us why on clear days 

You say you can see forever 
But today you can’t 

Make out the muck at the end 
Of your nose.