Déjà Vu

Any time now, the alarm 
Clock that’s melting 
And running off the bed- 
Side table like candle 
Wax will go off 
Just as you reach 
Over to turn 
It off and try 
To go back 
To sleep. 

. 


Any time now 
But not this time— 
That burnt-out 
Dream you’re stuck in 
Won’t let you go back 
To sleep again. 

Looking Wisdom in the Face: Athena's Olive

Surely it should show 
When one gets this old, 

One should know how 
Wrinkles grow. 

Landscape, Corporeal

At first only a hint 
Something’s gone wrong 

In the interior and that in itself 
So slight you’d never have noticed 

Save for the mounds 
Of earth the mole’s left 

Exiting the premises. 

Celestial

Fast approaching twilight, 
It seems all terrestrial 

Bodies start 
Levitating under 

The profound
Gravity of the situation. 

If Jimmy Cagney Had Been a Conceptual Poet (And Clayton Moore His Flarfist Sidekick)

“The devil you say!” but 
I bet you’d have found 
His word worth every penny, 

Like his classic Take that, you dirty copper— 
As he filled each poem full 
Of slugs, assaying the slime

Bags shrinking to a trail of silver 
Saliva while the masked man 
Plugged poor Pegasus full

Of debased mettle. 

Sixth Sense

perambulating 

in 
narrow 
lane 

night 
scents 
flowering 

out 
sleep 
walking 

again— 

Desultory

Out thinking 

Past midnight, clouds 
Drifting, half-moon 

Looking on 
Starry-eyed 

Galaxies moving 
Light years away.