Why Stoics Always Have The Last Word

waxing 

poetic, 

they 

know 

how 

insufferable not 

keeping 

your mouth 

shut is.

 

 

Ambivalent Pedestrian Crossing

—O tempora, o mores

 

Oh, fellow immobile go-getters 

In the lurch, it’s clear 

As that blankety-blank 

Non-stopping blinking stop- 

Light before us we have no 

Inkling where we’re going— 

But not to despair, though; 

Fortunately that lot is 

A lot more auspicious

 

Than not going anywhere 

Period, is it not?

 

Breezy Beach

The gulls flap from one 

Umbrella to the other; 

Whitecaps on grey waves.

 

 

Seize The Day: Ear-Splitting, Abominably Hot Summer Licks

Check out this 

Juicy piece of news, mate— 

The male cicada ‘sings’ 

Through expansion and con- 

Traction of its abdominal 

Tymbal: The female responds 

By clicking when 

She’s ready to couple; 

The hotter the day, the louder 

The sound they make. To me 

All this sounds clearly 

Like getting it while you can, 

Mate.

 

 

Blatently Pure Seferisque

 

How is it
Whether it’s becoming
Dark or light, 

The jasmine has a mind
Of its own, managing always
To stay white. 

 

 

Down-and-Out Hallmark Card

There, there, now— 

Let this poem take you where 

Everything’s coming up 

Roses and you 

Its constant gardener.

 

 

Dire Straits

Do not covet 

The waves 

Your voice makes 

As it wends its way through 

Treacherous waters.

 

 

Reception

Epicurean love is tenderly biting 

Off half the ultimate 

Olive on a dish 

Of exquisite tidbits, then 

Putting the other half back 

So that your better half can 

Take a part of that 

Last bite, too.

 

 

Faulty Inner Voice Syndrome Shock

frequently stuck with- 

in ear- 

shot but seldom 

left dumb- 

struck.

 

 

R. S. Thomas, Still Luminary In A Mean Time

So guiding a light once, no
Need to wonder twice why 

Nothing’s illuminating anymore. 

 

 

 

Paean For Helianthus

O blooming majestic flower— 

Heart of yours truly following 

The tracks on which the sun beats 

Daily cross such ambivalent skies, 

Oh that you could speak 

To us in kernels silent 

And heaven sent 

Of the journey we’re on, 

And so unequivocally 

For which we’re meant, 

Give us this day 

The strength to keep 

Our heads high 

And never 

Repent for all 

Our mortal weaknesses, 

Even as we know 

It’s our fatal bent.

 

 

After Seferis: Over The Mountains

See, there’s still another
Mountain peaking,

The slightest distance—
Let us rise

A little higher, each
Approaching day. 

 

 

Nostos: Heavenly Hellenic Gossamer

Never dissipating ethereal 

Urge to witness it again— 

So piercing

 

A light passing through

Curtains of ever diaphanous, 

Ever evaporating rain!

 

Song Caught In Flight

In a dark time,
If and when it chooses  

To make one more
Appearance, thrumming almost 

Imperceptibly before you 

From out of nowhere, buffeted 

This way and that 

By a fickle wind, stop dead 

In your tracks and stand 

As you will, perfectly 

Still like a hummingbird, 

Till it makes you 

See the light.

 

Enconium For Bill Knott (1940-2014)

No longer
With us he 

Who was once
A real somebody, so 

Significant a poet
In his own out of it right, 

That he was
Soon enough written off 

By virtual slews
Of in “significant” poetic 

Nobodies—
Can you believe that? 

 

 

Quode Vide (Which See): Vicious Pseudo-Philosophic Circle

Nothing needs
Something with which to see, 

Something more visceral
Than nothing, something 

One can eviscerate all
The way past 

Nothing, you see? 

 

 

Good Grief, Charlie Brown!

 

What was it
We had to face
Every day? Let me see— 

For starters there was
The same old sun,
The moon,
The stars,
The bittersweet feel
Of coarse earth under bare feet. 

The main course was grin and bear it
Of course, though it wasn’t
All that bad in the end,
And one thing more
Just for the record—

Insecure brats we may have been,
But we knew for sure
Tomorrow would always be
A brand-new day!

 

 

Luddite Aporia On Desolation Row

Dear God, have a heart— 
How bare this

Wretched sandlot looks;
Where are all those

Ragtag tatterdemalion holy
Terrors that once played

Their ragged hearts out?
Scroll down your answer—

I know you know, stop
Tearing me apart.

 

 

 

A Musing Marquee Muse

Flighty one, wait
Long enough to see 

Your name in lights,
And you’ll miss 

Every curtain call
Save the last 

Dance for me,
Hack. 

 

 

Codex With Well-worn Lacunae

 

Leaf through these
Moth-eaten pages
At your leisure if you will; 

Just make sure you
Leave no holes, no
Blanks and no 

New leaf turning
Over one more over-worked
Turning point of no 

Return after another,
You got that?
Good. 

 

 

 

Poet's Unresolved Burden Of The Heart

Never a light task
To put down 

Whatever dark matter is
Grieving you— 

Heavier even the thought
Of how to carry it out. 

 

 

Invitation To A Long Overdue, Albeit Well-Meant, Poetic Purging

Deep down thinking
Tells me just maybe
My life’s been spent facetiously 

Wallowing in the muddle
Of a clearly shallow pool
Of stagnant water; perhaps 

It’s time
I tried dredging this mighty
Fearsome puddle; 

No more drudge, no bother, no
More hollering, mum’s the word
Seriously, that’s the only path left 

To follow—
Would you care to join me
In this noble endeavor, oh
Fearless, humble lost fellow caller? 

RSVP@suchtoungueincheek.com