Enter The Internet, Catlike

 

odds 

are 

even 

before 

you 

 

blunder 

upon 

its 

sticky 

 

threads, 

this 

high- 

tech 

 

arachnid 

has 

 

shrewdly 

strewn- 

 

your 

path- 

 

way 

with 

 

myriad 

so- 

called 

safety 

 

nets 

merely 

 

designed 

to 

leave 

 

you 

dangling 

 

for 

as 

long 

as 

 

it 

takes 

for 

it 

 

to 

devour 

 

your 

in- 

satiable 

 

curiosity, 

and 

would 

you 

 

believe 

it, 

 

it 

looks 

too 

 

good 

to 

be 

true, 

 

and 

you’re 

not 

even 

 

a cat. 

 

 

 

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. 

 

 

 

Au Naturel Worldly Delight

 

Ingrained in the rock, 

The stuff that dreams are made of, 

 

Specks of sand packed tight. 

 

 

 

Curt Anti-Didactic Tactic

 

You can only teach 

A poem so 

 

Much, the less 

The better, so better 

 

Keep your mouth shut. 

 

 

Full-flowering Mellow Yellow

 

Full of brass and precious 

Blundering you were 

 

All volume and no 

Low-key till 

 

She showed you how classy 

Sweet silent saffron could be. 

 

 

 

The Alpha And Omega Good News Of The Day

Those in the know insist 

You have to 

 

See it to believe it, 

But nothing about 

 

It’s only 

The beginning 

 

And too often 

In the end, it’s never 

 

Good enough 

To be true, let alone 

 

Comprehend. 

 

 

 

Balm Of Gilead

 

You fall 

Asleep and sleep 

Forgets you were once 

 

Awake in a world where 

Everyone walks 

In their sleep.

 

 

 

Antediluvian Rites Of Greek Summer

 

Erotic lizards 

Play on hot tectonic rifts, 

 

Cyclamen flowers. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Procrastination As A Vehicle For Moving Beasts Of Burden

 

Bear with me,  

 

Comrades! 

What manner 

Speech to give before 

These shifting 

 

Mute masses, unable 

To mutter 

Vocables stable 

Enough to enable them 

 

To make 

Each new unbearable 

Moment more 

Bearable in the end? 

 

In the meantime, waiting 

For an answer to descend 

Like some Marxist-sent 

Deus ex machina, I move 

 

We vote quickly on a motion 

To table the motion again! 

 

 

 

Stoics In The Doldrums

 

What say we finally 

Snap out of it, chum— 

 

The wind that took us 

This way and that has nothing 

More to give us—it’s about time 

 

We live with that. 

 

 

 

Haiku: Save Your Breath

 

What does a poem have 

To say to someone who knows 

 

How not to listen? 

 

 

 

Word Of Mouth Sadomasochistic Poetics

 

The last time I heard, 

The voice of the muse 

 

I’d been listening to all 

These years had not 

 

Come clean with me as much 

As poetic decorum warranted— 

 

Clearly, what she’d wanted 

From me was consummate, 

 

Complete fealty masquerading 

As poetic licentiousness, 

 

And not by any twist 

Of a garbled imagination, 

 

A license to play down- 

Right dirty with my mind.

 

 

 

 

 

Cusp

 

yel- 

low 

 

little

sun- 

 

lit 

leaf 

 

hanging, twirling on 

a spider’s lone 

 

silver thread, how many 

twists and turns before you 

 

flutter 

in 

 

to 

the

 

twi- 

light 

just

 

ahead. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stoic Doggerel Much, Much After Diogenes

 

Dogs love barking 

At strangers, mutts 

 

Like you, too. 

 

 

Bloody Getaway

 

A very good poet didn’t think so, 

But there’s nothing really 

 

Dangerous about poetry— 

It’s just too bad 

 

Too many poets think 

They can get away 

 

With murder—see, 

There’s another one right 

 

Over there already revving up 

His "menacing" poetic 

 

Vehicle of destruction, 

Heading your way and looking 

 

Too much like me.