Huuklyeand Cinquor on the Mores of Humans

All

This talk of humanism is just

So much humbug;

I can’t speak for the others,

But isn’t being human just

One more excuse for living

Like an animal?

Moderator’s comments: I think all this is clever Huuklyeandish subterfuge; in reality, an outlandish allusion to various seminal anthropological studies, Malinowski’s The Sexual Life of Savages the most likely referent. 

Advent of Winter

white

barbed

wire

neck-

lace

hanging


throat-

less

song:


bird.



Photo taken some years ago during a rare snowstorm that hit the area and stayed for about a week; poem written round about the same time.

With daylight temperatures in Southern Greece hovering in the middle 20s (that's centigrade, of course) for the last month or so, it makes one long for the days when winter was definitely not for the birds. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor on the Preponderance of Whores on Wall Street

Honey, I keep telling you

If life is so damn sweet, why

Are there so many sour pusses

Walking the streets?

Moderator’s comments: Damn good question, Cinquor. Keep it up and you’ll screw things up good too.

Resigning One's Self to the Inevitable

The restless wind never waits

For us to catch our breath,

We have to run

Just like it.

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Poetic Dysfunction

As in penis, stud—

When you think you’re in

Doubt of the outcome.

Moderator’s comments: Even though one senses a self-indulgent literary poseur at work here—one who revels in letting himself drift headlong towards the literal pornographic as opposed to the artistic—one can still envy Cinquor’s masterly albeit quirky handing of an overworked but still controversial phenomenon whose occurrence continues to be on the rise, judging from the increased exposure it’s been getting lately.