Another Holy Mountain, Believe It Or Not

This time 

It’s Zeus’s so-called ladder- 

Like Mt Ithome that climbs 

 

To where the air is still 

Alive they say with spirits 

Of the undying 

 

Ancients that have 

Yet to exhaust that one 

Last precious breath needed

 

To ascend there. 

 

 

 

 

 

Humor Me This Mellow Melancholy Idyll

 

What if 

I told you those blooming 

 

Little yellow croci 

By the side 

 

Of the narrow path leading 

To the cramped white 

 

Chapel on the top 

Of the hill overlooking 

 

My dying birth village took me back 

To a song of my lost youth, 

 

Would you go along with me? 

 

 

 

 

 

Critical Poetic License

Happily ever after, 

Do not write as if 

 

Your life’s a third-rate novel 

Where you end up 

 

Reading a biography 

You could’ve lived without. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Memo Writ To A Fare-Thee-Well

Don’t forget— 

No matter what you do, how 

You do it will always come back 

To let you know how you did. 

 

 

 

A Poem Should Be (22)

Lightheaded but not 

At all incongruous— 

Like a grotesque

 

Metallic bird lunging head- 

Long into the sound 

Barrier banging against 

 

Your tin ear till 

You can hear yourself 

Heading for another universe 

 

Eons 

Of light 

Years away. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Playing For Keeps

We know 

How diverse verses come and go— 

 

The easy ones quick and eager 

To show their facile faces; the hard ones 

 

Hard at work while hiding, keeping 

Those hard-won profiles low. 

 

 

 

 

 

Discriminating Behavior

 

Like eggs gone bad, unsavory 

Politicians on their way 

To becoming rotten to the core 

Maneuver straight to the surface 

When immersed in a pot of water; 

Taken for granted and yoked 

To one another by dumb gravity, 

Their out of it constituents stay hale

And hearty stuck to the bottom.