Minor Ukrainian Rhapsody, March 21, 2022

a pity 

 

you’re not here 

to witness, Doc— 

 

you see not so 

 

much depends 

upon that fire- 

 

baked engine red 

harrow now caked 

 

with coats of maculate 

brown flaking rust beside 

 

a sky-blue pond in which reflected 

puffs of dirty gunmetal grey

 

clouds scud by and no white 

chickens in sight.

 

Perambulatory Archilochos

To each his own, 

Under blossoming 

 

Dogwood and oak, one 

Person at once poet 

 

And mercenary, out 

Walking through ragged 

 

Paper thin fragments 

Of a cutting mind, still 

 

Trying to get it all 

Together, one fragile 

 

Piece at a time. 

 

 

Coeval European Cutting-edge Theater, 2022 AD

Unfolding in front

 

Of heady, blood- 

Shot eyes, the worst 

 

Possible scenario, most 

Horrible war embroidered 

 

With the best 

Intentions of all 

 

Those terrible 

Hacks-in-waiting 

 

Behind rustling, heavy 

Curtains. 

 

 

 

Vicious Cycle Of Procrastination, Or One Frog Good, Two Frogs Better

What is never 

Explained satisfactorily 

And always 

 

Left for much, 

Much later is why 

Time after time 

 

You need 

To ask yourself why. 

 

 

 

Don't Just Stand There, Poet

All those knotholes 

There in the dark 

 

Oak-paneled room, 

How is it 

 

You cannot see 

The one 

 

Bump on a log?