KO'd By The Muse

Just between 
You and me, 
I think 
I don’t look at all 
Like a poet but I do 

Thank you so 
Much you think 
I do—would you 
Like me to 
Slam a poem 

About how 
It feels to be so 
Punch drunk you 
Can’t tell the difference 
Between what you want 

To see and what 
You’ve come to? 

Acid Reign

Crow on, old 
Indestructible 
Grackle on tip 
Of blighted cypress, 
Biting acid tongue. 

Growing Up

My father was old enough 
To be my grandfather, 
And I too young 
To know the difference, 
Till I too became 
A man old enough to know
It made no difference.

 

How To Compose A Politically (In)Correct, (Un)American Arse Poetica Coeval With These Disturbing Times

OK, class— 
Put in 

The right word 
(Fuck) 

In the right place 
(Trump) 

At the right time 
(Now), 

I think 
That’s just 

Fine. 

Sucker Bait

Throw out any line at will 
If you will but always hope 
Something more

Than the one that got away
Surfaces when the poem happens
To reel you in again.

Once Is More Than Enough, Thank You

Approaching the twilight 
Years, finally 

Waking up early 
Enough one morning to see 

Day break, then going 
Right back to bed 

Too dead tired even 
To sleep on it again. 

Niggardly And Dutiful At All Costs

Precious the memories, so 
Dear in fact he keeps them 

Hoarded in a satchel given 
To him by a doting mother 

Who shilled him 
Into guarding it 

With his life till 
He’ll remember how 

Much he wasted of it.