Eyesore In The Stately Kingdom Of Pines

Where what’s left 

Of memory remains 

This derelict sinking 

Slowly under an eye- 

Opening accruing piercing 

Cover of needles, above all 

Let us keep in mind how

We took pains to leave 

The master key 

Somewhere in the blah 

Back country stretches 

Of forgettable plains.

 

 

Supinely Moving Octogenarian Haiku

Whirring ceiling fan 

Over my bed assures me 

Motor’s still not dead.

 

 

Why Stoics Always Have The Last Word

waxing 

poetic, 

they 

know 

how 

insufferable not 

keeping 

your mouth 

shut is.

 

 

Ambivalent Pedestrian Crossing

—O tempora, o mores

 

Oh, fellow immobile go-getters 

In the lurch, it’s clear 

As that blankety-blank 

Non-stopping blinking stop- 

Light before us we have no 

Inkling where we’re going— 

But not to despair, though; 

Fortunately that lot is 

A lot more auspicious

 

Than not going anywhere 

Period, is it not?

 

Breezy Beach

The gulls flap from one 

Umbrella to the other; 

Whitecaps on grey waves.