In Terrorem

Remember:

in

ter

min

able,

un

flinch

ing

err

or

un

er

ring

ly

true,

e

pluribus

unum

skull

and

bones,

red

white,

blue.

On Second Thoughts

This rock is so set

In its ways, it refuses

To budge an inch,

Even if you

Give it a mile.

Poet Milking Sacred Cow

Victual Reality, Or How American Poets Are Turning

The Poem Into Tripe

Merle’s

hag-

gard

old

sagging

cow

belly’s

gone

to

pot.

The photograph late April 1975, half-way through a coast-to-coast motoring trip from Seattle to Boston; the poem twenty-some years later—maybe our titillating poet should have thought twice before regurgitating it.

All for Naught?

Was what he was trying to say worth the effort,

Or was it simply a case of not assaying the worth

Of what he wanted to say?

The Tachydromos Delivers the Goods

Compressing  thousands of years into a mere twelve days, swift-footed Hermes flew over 7000 miles to get William Michaelian’s timeless treasure safe and sound into our hands: It was worth the wait.

Sound of Solitude, Sound of Mind

I will not 

Go away 

Whispered the wind 

To the pines 

As long as 

You wish 

I stay.

Dedicated to the One I Love

Speak, Vazambam!