1922: Introducing Mr. T. S. E. Gibbous, Esq.

Ambivalent egg- 

Head way out there, suspended 

 

In your inner sanctum, why so 

Tilting brightly? One might wonder, 

 

Somewhat nonsensically, of course, 

You might be reflecting 

 

On the light that’s not 

Yours to begin with, and how 

 

Your bang-up saga might end— 

Sunny side up or scrambled 

 

With heady green cheese and deviled 

Portions of furtive darkling whimpers soon 

 

To be wasting away in a mooning 

Sea of sublimated tranquility.

 

 

 

How To Write Knockout Poetry

Once you’ve closed in 

On putting a new piece down, 

Give it the good old mercy shot— 

No use beating another 

Dead horse into the ground. 

 

 

 

 

 

Irresistible Spatial Consummation

Once written, poetry starts 

Straightaway withdrawing, only 

 

To finish at what seems to be 

The slightest distance, still 

 

Twitching in ecstasy, light 

Years away. 

 

 

 

 

 

Multitudinous Pedestrian Onlookers

Flooding 

 

Our retinas are vistas so 

Numerous and magnificent how 

 

Is it we notice only those 

Most insignificant 

 

Of ripples floating by? 

 

 

 

 

 

I Too, Robert Frost, Thought I Took The Road Less Traveled

Frosty-haired sleepy one, trying 

Hard to keep both eyes 

Open but still 

Anxious to see

 

The next poem 

Leap from out of the thick 

Underbrush of a seemingly 

Endless peripatetic mind, 

 

I cannot but feel how 

Many uncharted miles 

You must have covered before 

Discovering you had a driving need 

 

To fall asleep less, too.