Septuagenarian Spring Solstice Alarum

Something past the pedestrian sprang out 
Of deep sleep this ho-hum dawn and perched 

On a limb of a budding, dumb-stricken tree—sweet 
Sweet bird of lost youth, was it you dared wake me? 

Pedagogical Exegesis

In reply 
To my question 
As to why 
She looked so 
Haplessly glum in her 
Third grade class photo, 
My wife came back with 

You can’t tell but 
The skirt I was wearing 
Was threadbare and torn, 
And I was holding it so 
The tear wouldn’t show, 

The teacher smiling 
In the middle of the back 
Row was petty and mean 
And struck us with an olive switch 
He kept on his desk if we didn’t know

The answers to his questions; 
He flunked me in the second, 
Said more learning’s what I needed 
To make the grade, you tell me now 
How could I not hate him so? 

Detachment Rush

Damn it— 

Drop everything 
You’re doing before 

You’re ready and you’ll find 
Yourself with two severed hands 

And nowhere to rest 
Your bloody head. 

Pussywhipped

Enough’s enough, my bitter- 
Sweet catty sex kitten— 

Better a stiletto to the heart 
Than to heel 

Back to the doghouse 
A whimpering cur. 

Balancing The Account For The Duration

I say we get it over with 
And let whatever’s up 
In the air remain there— 

Like most of you hangers-on 
Out there, I too have more 
Than a passing interest 

In spending the rest 
Of my life loving being 
Suspended there.