Tilt, then, gerbil wheel— I will put you right again ev’ry time you fall. Outside, car’s passenger seat finally clean—too late now.
Tag Archives: poet
Mourning
It’s rough like canvas– unpainted roads on old sails. Lake won’t fish itself.
Haiku 10/2/18
Distant thunder shakes glass–the world appears behind closed blinds. Hold fast.
Fruits and Veggies
the pulse of Taco Bell bowels speed-dials Satan; the flatulence fells him. Behold: Someone broke heaven into cinnamon twists.
Haiku, 8 March 2018
Balled up like paper, the hood of the car burns–rain wets the tar. We wait.
Office Sonnet
Office Sonnet The filing cab’net’s sleek black sides’ dull gleam reflects the dim-blurred image of a foot all sandal-wrapped with unclipped nails that seem a cowry colored echo of a root exposed from underneath a fleshy soil. Softly sung to eyes, the image weighs as much as steam from cheeks too long embroiled or downyContinue reading “Office Sonnet”
Another Polimerick
After another school shootin’ Trump, with his mouth, started tootin’: “I’d run right in,” he said with a grin, though he quaked at the shadow of Putin.
Remembering Errol Flanders of West Marble Court
Foxes for pillows at the head of his bed and knock-knock joke eul’gies now that he’s dead. He died as he lived–face down in his soup or crying alone in a telephone-booth. Sometimes he’d smile at cars passing by while walking the freeway’s concrete divide. I had him over last Tuesday for lunch. He ventriloquizedContinue reading “Remembering Errol Flanders of West Marble Court”
Drive-Thru Ballad
While driving through McDonald’s for the nineteenth time that week alone, he paused and stared at their menu sign. Little flecks of red and gold upon a field of white littered with black curving shapes, tiny strips of night. The world upon its axis slowed and time refused flower as the patron held those shapesContinue reading “Drive-Thru Ballad”
Typical Friday at High Noon
Typical Friday at High Noon Like an Easy-Bake Oven from hell, the sun stiffens mud and a lone worm screeches in his mother tongue as he’s slowly Han Soloed in the carbonite of home. That eagle over there isn’t all that eager to pry him out. In the distance, Vin Diesel high fives Poseidon. BuoysContinue reading “Typical Friday at High Noon”
