Friday, September 19, 2014

This Old House

Thursday Morning, Busting Up A Metal Mesh Reinforced Tile Floor

Tight lipped five pound sledge
Gavels order to mayhem
Lungs gulp delta silt

revised post

As If We Needed Another

the last thing we need, another autumn to

Pull the plug on summer
Set the stage for winter
Strand seven apples

in a green glass

Bowl on the kitchen table
Goad us

out the back door to

Look up in thrall to sky blue yarn

unspooling to fray at dusk

Flinch at a flurry

of red and yellow hands
that clamor to

Push us to our knees
Hold us down
Weight our lids

          with copper while we

Count backward

lulled by wood smoke
          fleeting color we need like

we need another

goddamn hole in the head like

we need someone to

Come along kicking

through the leaves in search of words with which to
Write another poem.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

With a nod to the Band

If I Thought It Would Do Any Good

I’d Stand On the Rock Where Moses Stood
struggling for purchase, sandals biting
my bunions, juggling tablets and staff

gesticulating like a Mumbai traffic cop
yammering on and on to beat the band
words spirited off on a stiff breeze
folks on the margins drifting away

by twos and threes, giving wide berth
to the merchandise table, Porta Potties
plastered with wind-driven programs
raiment riding up my chilly backside. 

Rather, you can find me at the beach
my old sea parting ways behind me
apples and some pencils in a canvas
ruck, thumb out for a passing whale.