Saturday, November 18, 2017

Wind Song: An Epitaph For Lorine Niedecker


There’s a livelier sheen on the dead 
Leaves of autumn than in a dullard’s 
Air and oft Lorine had seen it there. 





Thursday, November 16, 2017

Quintessentially Human Defense Mechanism


That small 
Black-and-white 
Cur curled up 
Like a cinnamon 
Roll on a thread- 
Bare throw rug in 

Front of this 
Baker’s doorway 
Day and night come 
Rain, sleet or snow, 
Don’t tell me that 
He’s not like 

All those other poor 
Souls you think don’t 
Know any better than 
To come in from 
The cold—he doesn’t 
Know that. 


Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Hail and Farewell To Fair-Weather Friends


Adieu, adieu, you too 
Facile, two-timing 

Fickle near rhymes, too— 
I always felt deep down 

You were too close, 
Too good to be true. 


Sunday, November 12, 2017

Crepuscular Perambulating Septuagenarian


Ruminating towards end 
Of day, approaching

Olive grove full of wrinkles 
And furrows, cicadas drumming 

Their delirious ancient song well 
Into the night, leaving 

Everything plain as day!

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Finding The Rightful Road To Being What You Eat


Pilgrim— 
Break your bread so 
As to nourish yourself 
Accordingly—you may begin 

By straightaway feeding 
Your vanity less 
And eating humble 
Pie to surfeit. 



Monday, November 6, 2017

Catch Me If You Can


In the calm 

Before the storm, calm 
Wind spirit soon gone before 

Some said it goes on 
And on and no good 

Man knows every time where 
In the mad dash it went, 

And who throws caution 
To the winds praying fervently 

Not to worry when unspeakable 
Evil rends the storm 

Doors of the beleaguered 
And once more unspeakable 

Evil is done. 

Friday, November 3, 2017

Huuklyeand Cinquor On Cheapskate Curmudgeon Caught Soaking Dentures In Half-Empty Water Glass


I gather 
It’s a chore your 
Not thinking of anything 
Else so what 
You most likely attend to 
As you contemplate 
Your sunken cheeks 
In your chintzy 
Bathroom mirror is what 
You should’ve sunk 
Your teeth in all 
These years 
But didn’t. 


Moderator's comment: Grrr. . . .if there’s but one iota of a chance my alter ego is spreading false—aka “fake”—news about his better half of a cur, I can assure him this mutt’s teeth are real. https://i.chzbgr.com/original/8257568768/hA0F95665/
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