Wary of Being Panned in Public, Publius Ovidius Naso Lambasts Himself Piteously, though Still Failing to Abort the Metamorphoses of the Masses Brought on by the Likes of One Alfredius E. Neumano, Roman Gadfly

Spare the rod? Holy Jupiter, are you mad, 

Ovidius? Shove that spit into that kid before

He turns us all into fawning muttonheads. 

In Transit

recently departed bus 

passenger gone but 

these handles on 

seat back still 

warm to touch 

Sirocco over Hellas

Muammar, 

If you were here I would tell you 

Today it rained buckets of red 

Dust brought from that distant 

Desert of your late despotat— 

A not unusual phenomenon when one considers

That maddening south wind blows hard 

Enough to take one’s head off. 

Rainbow

So bewildering 

To follow the spectrum 

Of the spirit, I was walking in 

Iridescent rain and thought I was 

Walking towards it. 

Being Swept off My Feet

Do I hear folly calling me again in guise of air? 

Well, blow me down—how was it I was unaware 

A whirlwind muse kept my frenzy hidden there.