Flight (After Seferis)

Do not preen your feathers, 

Strange bird—there’s yet another 

Mountain peaking over 

The next ridge, the slightest 

Distance—please rise fully 

To the occasion.

Huuklyeand Cinquor's Fishy Blame Game

Hey, stinker-- 

You keep on telling yourself 

You've spent the better part 

Of your life waiting 

For your very own voice to bob 

Full-blown to the surface. 

Well, guess what, chum-- 

It's finally stopped playing 

Your silly game and now wants you 

To take the bait, the blame 

And nothing 

But the blame and reel 

It in hook, line and sinker-- 

Are you still game?

 

Temple

--for joseph aversano, occupant 

te 

me 

nos 

opening, 

en 

clo

sing

 

a 

sacred 

en 

closed 

s 

p

 

a 

c 

                                      e.

 

Flash Fiction Poet In The Bardo

What was it 

We thought we knew 

Everything under 

The heavens, 

Yet nothing of that 

Issue of what appears 

To be in-between, clearly 

Out of the blue.

 

Dedication Redux

Well, here’s to that 

Spunky little green stink- 

Bug that just upped 

And clinked down dead on my lap-

 

Top, kayoed by the treacherous 

 Light, with me in blind pursuit 

Of one more sweet-smelling 

Charmingly moving deathless line— 

Oh, dear lifeless little bugger thanks 

For taking the time, 

For stopping me short 

But not quite smack 

In time this time, sorry for this too, 

Too deliciously precious rhyme!