the gate hangs open/welcoming trespassers and/releasing the hounds
the jaw hangs open/changing the expression to/one of disbelief
the law’s corrupted/allowing a president/to escape justice
gapingkus
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once in a smile: a romance
once in a smile i saw
everything was wonderful and perfect
once in a dial i got
a connection and thrilling love
once beguiled all focus changed
but though not an unhappy ending
things went wild to mild to blurred
and the two of us disunited
now friends
plumbku
at the dome heap-o
they fix with fixtures and then
are plumb tuckered out
my white ass takin pictures on carson st
in carson california on carson street I saw an unusual storefront sign and used my phone to take a picture
but as i turned to go back to the sidewalk a young man standing in a storefront about 30 feet away with suspicion in his voice half-yellingly asked me what my white ass was doing taking pictures
so as disarmingly as i could and knowing that honesty is the best policy when dipped in diplomacy i told him i was from out of town and i had never seen a sign that said “Mommy’s Nutrition” before and i wanted a picture
and he realizing that i was a harmless pedestrian tourist and not some snooping sneaking ne’er-do-well said “my bad” and i relievedly said “we’re good” and got back to the sidewalk heading west
Out of Town
Every city/Has its limits./Not a pity./Mug has rim. It’s/Wonderful to/Sip that java/One stir full, to/Bank the lava.
Pack a bag and/Rent an auto./That main drag and/Time goes blotto./Mileposts fly right/Trough to crown/Grab that sky right/Out of town.
Afterword: I have just finished packing and am off to California, there to see my sweet and kind Cousin Livia, where we will see Neil Diamond in concert!
foam
air and liquid churn away/unconcerned with judgment day/bubbles break and time goes by/then they de-emulsify
with the hard press of a ridged button the liquid soap emerges from a narrow aperture mixed with some of the compressed air propelling it
clouds are skyborne foam of a sort
beware of frothy dogs and candidates
wrestle nestle pestle trestle
two spandexed bruisers ringed with ropes
two lovers spooned with flesh and hopes
a partner mashing mortar’s slopes
a bridge support…
uhhh…
Hey, help me finish this, AI…
>>Certainly. Your poem has established a rhyme scheme such that “a bridge support for antelopes” would be a fitting last line. There are at least eighteen small bridges frequented by antelopes scattered across various antelope habitats in North America alone for which trestles are used as support.
a bridge support for antelopes.
Thanks, AI.
>>Think nothing of it [, you moron, the AI thought to itself].
what you are doing here and now
half of yourself had been waiting in your mother’s ovary since some time before her birth. half of you was manufactured in one of your father’s testes some days before your conception. maybe. it is possible that half of you came from a thawed-out sperm donation.
your tadpole half plowed into your egg half. dna from the tadpole’s head did a jackson pollock number on the egg’s inside wall. the wall thickened and became like unto gandalf to the other sperm cells, saying in effect “you shall not pass.”
you developed and became viable.
you passed through a birth canal or an incision and if you did not cry a childbirth attendee gave you something to cry about.
what you are doing here and now is continuing the journey you began, a journey of survival and the satisfaction of your curiosity, now reading the expositive words of a stranger or a friend or both or neither, and this very instant you have satisfied your curiosity by finding out how this poem en
skew kus
we hope something new/comes up today along with/the usual fun
temperamental/judgmental and paranoid/are all illnesses
what coffee enhances/double-shot diminishes/and slumber transforms
if you do a search/on “miracle near me” you/must be desperate
a chemical way/for a four-syllabled “skewed”/is “allotropic”
Absentmindedly: an Acrostic Sonnet
As we accrue experience and skill
Bestriding academia and roles
Some memories grow vital, some just fill,
Ebb-tiding to the doldrums in our souls.
No one escapes some episodes of tedium,
The repetitious lulls between the dramas,
Mid troughs and peaks we find a happy medium
In being kids and oldsters, dads and mamas.
Neuronic loss, ironically, stokes memory,
Drives us to happy avenues of yore,
Ensorcels us whilst Now is filed with emery,
Delivers blank befuddlement at core.
Let’s see…where was I?? Candy bars a nickel?
Yum yum, and hey, who wants an Arnold’s Pickle?
One with Clay, Image and Text 