Poems

Yes, I Love Big, Boring Books

I'm a contrarian
by nature and by heart:
authoritarian
of the dumb and the smart.
So, you say that "Moby-Dick
goes dully on and on"?
And Dickens' *yawn* Pickwick
Papers a marathon
of tedium and woe?
For me such dullard cries
bestow a golden glow
of heavy levity
upon those boring books
of noted gravity.
Of Kindels, texts or Nooks --
I am ...

So our old pot,
It rocked a lot:
When you had to "go",
It swayed to and fro.
Both the bowl and basin
Did much water wastin'.
A miserable crapper
With a broken flapper!

"Enough!" I said.
So off I sped
To the big box store.
Hoses, pipes and more
They had in great supply.
And potties! I had to try
To pick one with the perfect flush.
But I was in such a rush!
...

Into the Open Sky

Our autumn leaves descend --
Poplar, sugar maple,
Oak, and black cherry --
The colored-side face down.

Pines half-participate --
They shed (like deer in spring)
Their summer-gathering
Interior needles.

I love them, these old pines:
Their autumn molting time,
Their winter sun diets,
Their shedding summer fluff.

I rake them this morning--
The turned leaves ...

This poem was written for the Picture Poetry Contest. It is a response to this image:



Transparency

The sun behind the stones,
The people in the crag,
His hands in his pockets,
Her hands behind her gown.

We hide what we can see:
These people, the earth, and me.

The sun behind the clouds,
The rain ...

This poem was originally posted in the Picture Poetry Contest.

Will you continue to look at me, please?
Fair skin, dark hair, black circles, white sclera:
You're a pose of contrasts. Metallic blue
Feathers reflected under mascara.

They airbrushed you. Can't you see? No face is
That white, that unblemished, that de-veined.
You're a Wal-Mart shrimp frozen from the farm.
Bloodless and raised in a seine to be seined.
...