Bitter Poetic Susurrus Carried On A Goodly Wind

It’s always this too 
Obscenely familiar 
Refrain that slips through 

(Tall slovenly grasses ringing 
Derelict tombstones) 

That keeps intimating 
Nothing remains the same, 
Nothing worth keeping alive, 

Not even our good name. 

Sweet Insouciant Spring Dungaree Skirt

My grand grand- 
Standing all of seven- 
And-a-half grand- 
Daughter showing off 
Her blooming 

Outlandish new floral out- 
Fit with a flourish 
And an impish Look Papa! 
Now I really do have to watch 
Myself round honeybees, right?

Downright Right Java Near Mount Ithome

I must tell you 
There’s no better 
Boon than this sterling light 

Dawn after dawn down 
Here in these boondocks rich 
In uncluttered vistas made 

For the out-of-the-way 
Mind and the view 
Of this mountain 

And the rosy- 
Colored sheen 
On the handle 

Of my bright 
Silver spoon tells me 
This brew keeps mighty 

Fine company, too. 

Sailing The Seas Of Uncertainty: Unprofitable Line

With surfeit salvaging
Provisions in hand and buoyed

By the prospect of perhaps
Reeling in a real doozy

Or two, one after
Another, you keep on

Throwing your one
And only precious

Life savers out—
Anything new in view?

Widow's Ephemeral Thoughts

—R.I.P. Terry Tisdale 

Dear God, I know only 
A moment’s needed 

For that low-lying dark 
Cloud overhead to pass— 

Grant me an eternity 
Of light so 

I too can pass 
This moment by 

At last.