Edict

 

Let it henceforth be known,
Poems shall no longer be
Pure as the driven snow.

It’s hard
Enough as it is, being
Rundown vehicles stuck

In raging blizzards
Of unspeakable
Clarity.

 

Almost A Full House

 

Being
Extra-ordinary,
Too much

In love
With your
Self means

There’s no room
For others
At your very own,
Very in inn—

Time to pack it in?

 

 

 

Wild Blue Yonder Beyond The Study Curtains

The thought

Of it was there, seemingly
Unmoving so long as you were
Captivated by it,

But even then
It wasn’t
With you all

The while, when
It would sidle
Between the folds

Of your mind, waiting
For the next inkling
Of wind to go

Rustling off again.

 

 

Survival Of The Fittest, Palestine, 1948

 

Oh suffering chosen ones,
Do not forget to be
Tenacious as lichen,

Living long
Enough to see
Your offspring surely

Turning into stone,
Brilliantly.

 

 

 

 

 

Nowhere Like The Distance Anywhere

 

It’s a lot like having
A shoulder you can rest
Your head on,

And saying I knew you
All the while you were
Here and I was nowhere near

So that you could hear
And embrace me
Coming and going,

Loud and clear.