Vitriol

My dear Lady Jane,
No need to explain
The demise
Of your infamous obnoxious
Former proboscis.

We’ve heard
The rumor of a tumor’s plain
As that snippet
Of a snub now gracing your face,
And oh so innocuous looking.

So pretty
Please with sugar on it,
For old times’ sake
Before you depart,
Give us your best parting shot—

No need for formalities, dearie,
Dispense with the snot.

Coming Apart at the Think Factory

unhealthy

.

there you thought
you were whole

.

some did not see how
introspective

.

you came to be

.

a part of it
self-destructing

.

defective

.

machinery

Summer Deluge

over

whelmed
bamboo

touching the
rain

soaked track

Less is More/More is Less

Whatever I take, I take too much or too little;
I do not take the exact amount. The exact amount
is no use to me.
—Antonio Porchia, Voices

Master, thank you

For showing us
All you have

To do is more
Or less than what

You want.

Zanna, Hello and Goodbye, 6.30 am

My friend,

The young Kurd who works
A daily twelve-hour shift

At the local service station,
Has been on duty long before daybreak,

But as my bicycle is not
An automobile

And thus needs nothing
But air, he remains

In his cubicle and continues
Listening to songs

Of the motherland. Still, I know
He keeps an eye out for me

For when I leave,
I see an upright hand

Waving in the air.