Fait Accompli

We know all too well now 
Our precious words were 
Never really ours, no more 

Than our children were, who 
Have dutifully stolen away 
And taken what remains 

Of our past youth with them, 
While we were looking 
The other way.

Cartesian Livelihood

Trying hard 

To write 
As if 

Your life depends 
On finding 

Just the right 
Word every time 

You think you are 
Going to lose it. 

Aura Obscura

To sense the poet all

Alone and still

Around him reverberating,

A void resembling nothing

 

At odds with his ends.

Classic Tragicomical Pretext

The deus ex machina 
Driving the next 

Poem you are breathlessly 
Anticipating is waiting 

In the wings disguised 
As a winged Trojan beating 

A dead and falling horse. 

Refracted Heraclitean Song

Bend 

In the stream, the 
Dubious 

Reflection of that 
Ambivalent face swaying this 

Way and that, the beckoning
Reeds stuck in mud.

Grasping Aspirant Prestidigitation

Would that the poem suddenly 
Materialize before 

Our wondering eyes 
In its entirety so 

That we could verily 
Consume it whole, now 

. 


That would be real 
Magic working

My wannabe, 
Gullible friends. 

Oxymoronic

When 

The poem 
At last 

Arrives, you will 
Know by the deafening 

Silence it leaves 
Behind, you were never 

Here to begin with.