Malady of the Squint-eyed Kid

Whatever has come over me?

My thinking’s cloudy, I cannot see—

On second thoughts, no use to think,

No use to see

Whatever it is,

It must be me. 

One More Transient Thought for the Day

When the watchdog you keep mindfully

On a leash keeps on barking 

In the dead of night, be on the lookout 

For strays out looking 

 

For somewhere to bed down,

And not just for the night. 

Startled by the Unimaginable

To understand how sunstruck 

Swallows resemble angels 

Of the morning, 

One only has to imagine two 

Of them flying through two 

Different windows, hovering 

Together over a double 

Bed before darting out, each 

Through a different window— 

See how easy that was? 

Conrad DiDiodato's Bridget Bird and Other Poems

 

Recently arrived:  All the way from Canada—with lots of wonderful poems tucked under her wings—a sprightly little creature named Bridget! If prospective readers want some idea of the cargo she’s carrying, all they have to do is read what Katherine L. Gordon says about it on the book’s back cover and then wing themselves to the nearest bookstore and--I'll give them six seconds to sing--buy it! 

Aporia

When I’m beside myself, 

The last thing I want 

 

To think about is why 

That person beside me looks lonely. 

 

 

Wind Chimes

recounting 

Cid’s windbell 

tattle— 

telling 

nothing 

nothing 

but still telling 

Oldtimer

Leave me as I am, my child— 

Still holding on 

Like a raindrop on a limb.