Poem Thirty


April 30, 2013


Mockingbird “play-ya”

Whistles and cajoles

Tired old lines

Smooth as molasses

“Hey you, yeah you;

If you was bread, I’d knead you;

You as fine as a parking ticket;

Heaven’s missing you, angel”

He don’t care if they wear

Brown or blue

All night long two by two

He breaks the silence

With his patter

It don’t matter

On a night like last night

When the moon is a mango

Pregnant with possibility


Poem Twenty-Nine

The Final Demands of Ms. Wright

April 29, 2013


Sit your big fat all-u-can-eat ass

Down and assure me

It’s not too late to find love

Mr. Right is on the road

A little late but still coming

Saddlebags laden with gold and

Steam Punk threads

My address in his GPS

He’s aiming for my door and

I won’t suffer anymore

Tell me Prince Charming

Rides a Harley

Has my image in his smartphone

My moniker on his lips

And the wait won’t be long

I’ll soon hear the roar of the engines

A song as sweet as his words

Poem Twenty-Eight


April 28, 2013


It’s always about black

My favorite color

Not by choice

Black is my familiar:

a black cat for a black witch

Black clothes, black moods, black life

The devil is a blacksmith

hammering out sentences:


always delivered/often accepted

The devil always has a full house

at his receptions

where pleasures go

unremembered, unenjoyed, and unrepaid

in perpetuity

Poem Twenty-Six

Erasure Tintern Abbey

April 26, 2013


FIVE years, five summers, five long winters!

      waters, rolling mountain-springs, lofty cliffs,

      wild deep seclusion

 quiet of the sky.

      repose under this dark sycamore, at this season,

      ‘Mid groves and copses.

little lines of sportive wood, wreaths of smoke

      in silence,

vagrant dwellers of some Hermit’s cave

 beauteous forms, to a blind man’s eye:

I have owed sensations sweet, in the heart;     

tranquil restoration

no trivial influence     

unremembered, acts sublime

serene blessed human blood     

harmony, joy, belief, the fretful stir,

      the fever of the world,     

half-extinguished thought, sad perplexity,             

pleasing thoughts in this moment

I dare to hope,

      flying from something

      haunted like a passion:

      an appetite; a feeling unborrowed from the eye

 dizzy raptures.

mourn nor murmur,

      abundant recompence, sad music of humanity,

            elevated thoughts; sublime round ocean,

living air, blue sky, motion and spirit, mighty

(my dearest Friend,

      my dear, dear Friend)

shooting lights

wild eyes.

From joy to joy

evil tongues,     

dreary intercourse

moon shine, misty mountain, wild ecstasies

healing thoughts     

thy wild eyes these gleams

      Of past existence– I came     

with deeper zeal


Poem Twenty Five

A Poem for the Pessimist

for Amanda Palmer

for Dzhokhar Tsarnaev

April 25, 2013


You don’t know what bad poetry is

You don’t know what good poetry is

You don’t know what sadness is

You don’t know what happiness is

You don’t know that puppies smile without even trying

You don’t know that cats ignore you on purpose

You don’t know that dolphins do not wear swimsuits

You don’t know that really bad poetry is easy to publish

but hard to read

You don’t know the hardest thing of all is reading

bad poetry written by good friends because then

you have to lie and pretend

You don’t know you have to say, “Good poetry”

(Exclamation point)

because you don’t know that’s part of being a “Good friend”

The end