Chowing Down at the Wall Street Mission House

It is not easy to make a simile go on all fours.
—T.B. Macaulay

Like holy mackerel, there—
On all fours, ravenous

Biblical winged in
Sects eating the floor!

The Poet Transmuted

—after Aesop


Crow over

Me with worm
In air do I look

Like a fox.

Unraveling the Riddle

Knock-knock.

Poetry Lesson

And yet, we know something of bitterness—
This draining out of love in syllables
Teaches us, among other things, silence
And how to talk our way around it.

(My first published poem, Poetry Northwest, Winter 1970-71--going on forty and still teaching.)

One More Inspiring Sunset Poem

Ho-hum. How many more
Like this one have yet to be written

On the horizon?
Ho-hum.

On Approaching a Shortcut through a Field of Nettles

Rush,
Rash.

Farce

The plot

Thickened by far
Fetched remnants of earth

Like creatures
Jettisoned

In space, the absence
Of gravity continues

To play a major role.