You Asked For It So You Better Believe It

Sport, I told you straight out 
You were light years out 

Of your league when you insisted 
Your poetry had more polish 

And pizzaz than me and boy 
Have you ever got a whopper 

Of a shiner to show for it now, 
You see? 

Follow The Money

Moonlighting 

Moonlit snail spills 
Shining track of silver 

Trail behind it. 

Whatever, Whenever

Why is it when 

You arrogantly think you know 
Everything, the poem— 

Knowing you better—always 
Comes out 

Sounding ignorant as ever.

So Long, It's Been Good To Know You

As long as you were fodder, 
They were one with you all the way, 
Till you passed them before

The end of the journey—now 
They’re drowning in the wake 
Of your passing, no longer able 

To pass on the good times your way. 

Sounding Your Self Out

sounds 

like 

some 

where 

out 

there 

you 

are 


where 

every 

step 

you 

take 

takes 

you 

forever 


to 

get 

there

Great Galactic Enterprise

All we’ve ever given of ourselves has never been 
Quite enough to complement the longing 

For nebulous stardom 
That still lies within. 

Epitaph For A Self-Proclaimed Self-Made Man

For one who 

Never tired of saying I got this 
Far with nothing but hard work, 

You must be dead 
Tired by now. 

Higher Love

One comes to love the impossible because 
One does not want to find himself 
Feeling low loving just anything. 

Now You Think You See It, Know You Don't

Do not kid yourself 
Do not waste your time 
Do not write 

Poetry if you think 
Poetry’s a cheap trick 
And you a sleight of hand 

Man fobbing your audience 
In wonderland with a rabbit pulled up- 
Side down from a top hat—there’s more 

To poetry than that, so stop 
Your monkey business, get back 
To catching tigers in red weather, 

And leave it at that. 

Now Or Never: The Next Life

The next time you feel that dark 
Urge to curse the incorrigible 
Adamantine white page lying so 

Smugly before you, cast your sights 
On to when you imagine 
It will pay you back 

Tenfold with nothing 
Save hard, brilliant flashes 
Of blinding light— 

But (and this is all it asks of you)— 
Only if you serve it right 
Here, never in that other life. 

Brief Elegy For A Lyric Poetess, Passing At 58

In your short, bittersweet stroll through 
Life’s unavoidable highs and lows, 

You were as full of life as your poems were 
Touchingly sorrowful. 

Sailing The Dream (Spindthrift)

air                     rows 


sea                    waves


bow                   quivers 


 

Too Much, Too Soon

You know you’ve been trying 
Too hard to find your voice 

When you find out too late 
You’ve lost it. 

Lovely Being

a word in a poem 
enclosed in a bottle 

opened by one 
you love. 

Closure For Beginners Up Against A Wall

The next time you feel 
A desire to execute 

The poem 

Of your life, make sure 
You wind it up with a blank 

Sheet of paper. 

Suddenly, Phlegm

What on Earth were you 
Expecting, poet? The expected almost 
Never comes when expected— 

If and when it does decide 
To make its entrance, 
More often than not

It acts as if it were 
An indifferent ephemeron 
Setting down miniscule droppings

On the tip of your dumbstricken tongue, 
While all you can do is expectorate, 
Expectorate profusely till kingdom come.