Maybe Tomorrow

—after Cavafy

Please

Old man, do not entreat me

To change my ways—

One of these days, perhaps

Today even, I shall

Make sense of what

I learned from yesterday;

Until that day, let me bask

In that full-bodied, sensuous

Knowledge of my ignorance.

Soap as Poetic Metaphor

be

cause

it

is

an

agent

so

cleansing, even

more so when not

bubbling over,

swallowing

so much sop. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on the Real Meaning of Realpolitik

You clogged up assholes—

You sit here saying how shitty everything is

When the real shit has yet to hit the fan.

Moderator’s comments: Merde alors!

Commemorative

Racked by pain, still

The innocent wheel-

Chairs swear on

A campaign

Against a mounting

Stack of dog-eared bibles,

Everyone gets the picture—

Nothing's framed.

NB: Lest we forget, today marks the 37th anniversary of the beginning of the fall of the infamous junta that ruled Greece from 1967 to 1974. 

Before the Ruby-throated Hummingbird Stood Still

When not composing on the computer (and before that on a Remington Quiet- Riter exactly like this
one which my parents bought me as a junior high graduation gift), I jot down bits and pieces of rantings and ravings on a 7 1/8 x 5 1/4 inch account book--the perfect size for my miniscule scribblings. 

Number one starts on January 11, 1975 in Seattle and finishes (with stopovers in London and Paris) in Greece in July 1976; the one I'm currently scribbling in is number twelve. That's not much of an output but what can you expect from a humming bird.