Thunderstruck

More often than not, 
In what passes surreptitiously 
As deep thought, 

Our mind alights 
On something it considers 
Truly electrifying, only 

To be left 
In the dark a flash 
Later, dumbstruck 

By the depth 
Of our stupidity. 

Zen Haiku: Squandering (In)tangibles

Such waste cherishing 
Things of the world to surfeit 
When nothing’s perfect. 

I Love You Too, Dear

My goodness, who would have 
Guessed her words meant 
And still mean much 
The same as mine, 

And yet,there’s still that much 
More between us to divine, 
Dowsers each, bent on plumbing 
The other's unfathomable line. 

Runoff Past Nothingness

Blow 

Hard go tell it on 
The mountain when 

The passes are still 
Choked 

With spring snow. 

Septuagenarian Spring Solstice Alarum

Something past the pedestrian sprang out 
Of deep sleep this ho-hum dawn and perched 

On a limb of a budding, dumb-stricken tree—sweet 
Sweet bird of lost youth, was it you dared wake me? 

Pedagogical Exegesis

In reply 
To my question 
As to why 
She looked so 
Haplessly glum in her 
Third grade class photo, 
My wife came back with 

You can’t tell but 
The skirt I was wearing 
Was threadbare and torn, 
And I was holding it so 
The tear wouldn’t show, 

The teacher smiling 
In the middle of the back 
Row was petty and mean 
And struck us with an olive switch 
He kept on his desk if we didn’t know

The answers to his questions; 
He flunked me in the second, 
Said more learning’s what I needed 
To make the grade, you tell me now 
How could I not hate him so? 

Detachment Rush

Damn it— 

Drop everything 
You’re doing before 

You’re ready and you’ll find 
Yourself with two severed hands 

And nowhere to rest 
Your bloody head. 

Pussywhipped

Enough’s enough, my bitter- 
Sweet catty sex kitten— 

Better a stiletto to the heart 
Than to heel 

Back to the doghouse 
A whimpering cur. 

Balancing The Account For The Duration

I say we get it over with 
And let whatever’s up 
In the air remain there— 

Like most of you hangers-on 
Out there, I too have more 
Than a passing interest 

In spending the rest 
Of my life loving being 
Suspended there. 

Epitaph For A Morbidly Wannabe Witty Poet

His sense of humor was so 
Dark he couldn’t see 
For the death of him, 
His corpus wasn’t light enough. 

A Poem Should Be (16)

Two things at once— 
Unforgettably well written 

And too good 
To be true. 

Desolation

The mountain trail you chose 
To walk today was once 
Full of the echoes 

Of peasants going back 
And forth from one village 
To the other; by the time 

You finished you’d walked 
Six miles and heard nothing 
Human but the sound 

Of one foot talking 
To the other, both yours 
For the asking. 

Moot Question

All this murderous 
Business of people going about 
Their daily business of killing 
People unlike themselves, 
What power under 
The heavens will rise up 
To wipe this enterprise off 
The face of the earth 
And make it human again? 

Diehard Romantic Getting The Go-Around Once More

“So long, it’s been good to know you.” 


Knowing you, I’m sure you have 
Heard this distressing phrase before— 

Even so, it’s comforting 
To note you’re still able 

To wax poetic while bearing 
News so bad you can’t help 

Dragging your clubbed feet 
Through that same jammed too 

Pedestrian revolving door.

Resolute Invocation (Full Of Piss And Vinegar)

Good God, my Lord, 
Pray start your day 
Off with a difference 
For a change—forgive all

Those ass-kissing maculate 
Knaves currying your favor 
If they promise never ever 
To blackguard your good name again;

Should they say nay, swear never 
To utter their wholly holier- 
Than-thou shit names again, 
Amen. 

False Dichotomies

For instance, that between 
An optimist’s 

Half-full glass and a pessimist’s 
Half-empty one, where one must 

Also consider the empty 

Space above remaining 
Fully the same.

Y'all Be Here Now, Y'hear?

Yesterday you were firm 
As a brooding hen, not 
Budging an inch from your future 
Capital, come what may. 
Well, I’ve got news for you, you 
Fly-by-night mogul—the god 
Almighty inch is still here today, 
Plus the budgie in its gilded cage. 
Before the cock crows anew,
While your lovey-dovey precious 
Nest egg’s flying the coop and stool 
Pigeons coo, I bet swiftly you’ll be 
Roosting in a chintzy cuckoo’s nest a blue
Moon away, you cheesy yahoo you. 

Bringing It All Back Home On The Ferryman's River

Rounding another silted bend, 
Where someone left a lone 
Oar, a marker now half- 
Hidden in the susurrating 
Singing reeds signaling still 

Another traveler’s solitary 
Deposition beached 
Near the not so 
Farfetched beckoning 
Dog-eared shore. 

Real Going Concern's Unfortunate Misstep Into The Abyss

The secret of my success? Too bad 
A run of bad luck means I’m going 
To take that with me but I can 
Leave you this much, Einstein— 
I didn’t get this far in life 
By counting the number 
Of steps I took backwards. 

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.