Bliss

To fall 
Asleep next 
To your snoring 

Five-year-old grand- 
Daughter on 
Your right 

And your wife 
Sawing wood 
Next to her, 

Goodnight.

 

Art of the Deal

You keep telling me 
Having money’s hard 
Work and to make 
Do with what I’ve got, 
Which must be a lot 
Easier if one’s not 
A have-not—so what 
Say you slip me that 
Ace up your sleeve 
When I’m not looking 
And make believe 
I’m hard up as your lot. 

#Me Too

1. 

After lopping off 
A limping male 

Poetic limb or two, 
The liberated 

Muse’s shark-like mouth 
Cannot be said to be 

Sardonic, nor her smile ironic, 
Though some macho moronic 

Poets have gone so far 
As to call it romantically 

Emasculating— a void, 
A fathomless, yawning abyss. 

2. 

With all due respect 
To the free- 

Loving unfaithful 
Beastly romantic 

Percy, if Mary were 
Here, I’d surmise 

She’d find nothing grotesque
Or amiss with this fantastic script— 

After all she was 
Nobody’s monster, just 

Frankenstein’s perfect 
Ms. 

A Poem Should Be (14)

Resourceful— 

Like that home 
Less mutt taking 
In the winter sun 

Shine on 
The leeward side 
Of a derelict’s hovel. 

America Emaciated, Land of The Free Depraved

Eat your hearts out, you well- 
Heeled so-called emancipated 

Masses yearning to be free 
Of guilt by association, for you 

Too can now starve and torture 
Your selves with plenty 

Of generous home-school 
Helpings of stark impunity.