Not-So-Moving Ephemeral Collectibles

 

All the junk we thought
We needed on the way, 

But with nothing
Lasting of value beyond 

A precious uncertain morrow
Every day. 

 

 

Pearlies Of Wisdom

Believe me,
Nothing to believe in is
Nothing to sneer at— 

Just think zilch
And you’ll see how
Grim it is to grin, 

And your curling upper
Lip unable to bear it
By tucking it in. 

 

 

Last Logbook Entry Of An Unjustly Neglected Satiric Poet

 

Hell or high water,
I’ll keep shouting it 

Till I’m blue in the face:
I’m not going to keel over 

And die till I see all three
Of my intimate followers’ 

Bulging bloodshot eyes
Green with envy, ogling 

The body of my work
And me 

In my final resting place,
Period. 

 

 

Doggedness

 

Nothing remains
The same: It’s been said so
Many times it’s old-hat,
Oblivious to change— 

Keep on trucking light
Just the same, tread
Water if you have to,
Always use your given name. 

 

 

Poetry For Oblivious Mutts

--Corazón, stout dog,
“Poetry Is a Destructive Force,”
Wallace Stevens 

 

To bark with all our might
Straight from the heart is just
What we didn’t want— 

We needed something
That would clearly set us apart
From the howling, romantic pack. So 

Oh so vain as ever, we found ourselves
Mushing on to wherever it was
We were going, 

Forgetting all too soon
That which brings us
Together remains

For all appearances,
A blinding blizzard pure
As the driven snow.