Uppity Second Fiddle To None

 

Don’t bitch and don’t you dare

Hold a grudge either— 

 

Second-best is worse 

Than first only if you can’t 

 

Bear to see another being first. 

 

 

 

 

 

Deaf-mute Janus

 

Who would’ve thought 

I’d be speaking through 

Another tongue one day, 

 

One I never realized 

I had until I heard 

It calling my name, 

 

Sounding out each 

Syllable as if it were 

Reading my lips.

 

 

 

Time Out

 

The last time you tried 

To sit still, clear your mind 

 

Of hodgepodge and think 

Of nothing, turned out 

 

A complete 

Waste of time— 

 

Time to re-examine 

Your priorities 

 

And focus instead 

On all sorts 

 

Of congeries 

In general, that is 

 

To say, oddly 

Enough, nothing 

 

In particular, as it 

Looks to be without 

 

Your knowing it, 

Your one-and-only 

 

Everything. 

 

 

 

Nostalgia: Eclogue/Epilogue

when 

 

you 

finish 

with 

what- 

 

ever 

you 

were 

 

doing 

all 

these 

years, 

 

find 

the 

time 

 

to 

sit 

back 

 

and 

take 

in 

 

the 

view— 

 

it 

wasn’t 

so 

 

bad 

you 

couldn’t 

 

write 

home 

about

 

it

even

if

 

you 

could 

 

now, 

could 

you? 

 

 

 

Once There Was This Thing Called Water

 

soon 

after 

the 

beginning 

 

and as soon 

as the first 

drops began

 

to fall, 

then

 

the 

ever 

more 

 

rapidly 

spouting 

fountain- 

head 

 

began 

filling 

the 

hollow 

in 

 

the 

Earth, 

ready 

to 

quench 

 

every 

thirsting 

thing 

 

again 

and 

again 

 

but 

before

 

we 

knew 

 

it— 

never 

again.

 

Conceptual Prestidigitation

 

Slick, you look to have that 

Precious gift of sleight— 

 

A present always 

 

Better prized and appreciated 

When kept out of sight. 

 

 

 

Supine Acoustics

 

Helicopter drones 

Overhead—lone bumble bee 

 

Thrums flower power. 

 

 

 

Seeping Maculation

 

No nightingales near 

The river—even the reeds 

 

No longer rustle.