Classic Tragicomical Pretext

The deus ex machina 
Driving the next 

Poem you are breathlessly 
Anticipating is waiting 

In the wings disguised 
As a winged Trojan beating 

A dead and falling horse. 

Refracted Heraclitean Song

Bend 

In the stream, the 
Dubious 

Reflection of that 
Ambivalent face swaying this 

Way and that, the beckoning
Reeds stuck in mud.

Grasping Aspirant Prestidigitation

Would that the poem suddenly 
Materialize before 

Our wondering eyes 
In its entirety so 

That we could verily 
Consume it whole, now 

. 


That would be real 
Magic working

My wannabe, 
Gullible friends. 

Oxymoronic

When 

The poem 
At last 

Arrives, you will 
Know by the deafening 

Silence it leaves 
Behind, you were never 

Here to begin with. 

Evensong In The Air

a 
round 
twi- 

light a descending 
heavy scent 
of night 

flowers 

an ascendant night 
bird’s calling 

a duet 
heaven 
sent.