Wednesday, September 2, 2020

After Archilochos: Ball-buster


[    ] of that

[    ] [    ] [    ] she

[    ] gave so

[
[
[
[    ] [    ]

[ willingly [then?]

[
[
[    ] [    ] left
[
[
[    ] [    ] me
[
[
[
[ lame?] [    ] a limp

[
[
[    ] [    ] shaft I would

[    ] give my [right?]

[    ] [   ] [    ]

[    ] nut to get
[    ] [    ] [    ] [    ] [    ] it straight

[a way?] back
[
[
[
[    ]  [    ] a [gain?]





Thursday, August 27, 2020

Minimalists' Major Plight

Where we retire to 
At night speaks volumes 
Of why 

We write small 
Poems constantly 
In search of all 

Encompassing light.


Friday, August 21, 2020

X Marks The Spot, Debaucher

Somewhere near the whereabouts 
Of the last poem 
You ravished and abandoned 
For lack of a moral compass, 
You’re sure to come across the future 
Ruins of the next one, marked 
By a small white bloody sheet 
Begging you to be oh so gentle 
This time around. 


Friday, August 14, 2020

Fait Accompli

We know all too well now 
Our precious words were 
Never really ours, no more 

Than our children were, who 
Have dutifully stolen away 
And taken what remains 

Of our past youth with them, 
While we were looking 
The other way.




Saturday, August 8, 2020

Cartesian Livelihood


Trying hard 

To write 
As if 

Your life depends 
On finding 

Just the right 
Word every time 

You think you are 
Going to lose it. 



Thursday, August 6, 2020

Aura Obscura

To sense the poet all
Alone and still

Around him reverberating,
A void resembling nothing
 
At odds with his ends.



Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Classic Tragicomical Pretext

The deus ex machina 
Driving the next 

Poem you are breathlessly 
Anticipating is waiting 

In the wings disguised 
As a winged Trojan beating 

A dead and falling horse. 


Saturday, July 25, 2020

Refracted Heraclitean Song

Bend 

In the stream, the 
Dubious 

Reflection of that 
Ambivalent face swaying this 

Way and that, the beckoning
Reeds stuck in mud.







Tuesday, July 21, 2020

Grasping Aspirant Prestidigitation

Would that the poem suddenly 
Materialize before 

Our wondering eyes 
In its entirety so 

That we could verily 
Consume it whole, now 




That would be real 
Magic working

My wannabe, 
Gullible friends. 


Friday, July 17, 2020

Oxymoronic

When 

The poem 
At last 

Arrives, you will 
Know by the deafening 

Silence it leaves 
Behind, you were never 

Here to begin with. 


Friday, July 10, 2020

Evensong In The Air



round 
twi- 

light a descending 
heavy scent 
of night 

flowers 

an ascendant night 
bird’s calling 

a duet 
heaven 
sent.

Wednesday, July 8, 2020

Ad Infinitum In The Wide Open Spaces


Buckaroos, buck up— 

Just when 
The ditty tends 

To end, it ends up 
With plenty more 

Bloody spaces
To begin again. 






Sunday, June 28, 2020

Full Material Disclosure Of An Artful Dodger


This cannot be stated strongly 
Enough or too often: 

I have a real dislike 
For things of no
Consequence and how
They are woven

Into the fabric 
Of our day-to-day 
Existence so artlessly 
We hardly notice 

We are nothing 
Save empty shirts 
With no pockets. 





Friday, June 26, 2020

Eulogy For A Poet Who Didn't Have Much To Say But


Who kept at it wholly 
Day and night 

Digging up all those bright,
Light little gems here 

And now when 
Others half- 

Heartedly shoveled 
Wheelbarrows 

Of heavy black 
Holes whole 

Light years away. 



Tuesday, June 23, 2020

That Delectable, Albeit Spurious, Choice Morsel On The Tip Of Whatever


It is supposed to mean 

As inviting retort and why it is 
Uttered at times with such 

Venomous self- 
Serving unction that even 

The indifferent tongue recoils 
In utter revulsion is anybody’s 

Guess, whatever answer 
Lies in wait, forked 

And unpalatable as ever.



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