Last posted a new poem April 7th… I’ve 40 poems since then unblogged. Think I’ll post 6 a day to catch up.
Hard to blog lately. The blatant evil rampant in the Republican party and the 62.96 million who voted for Trump and the egregious racism and greed shown since are getting to me. Never expected a lot from people, but I expected more decency than this.
Here’s Lady’s latest poem from June 2.
~ ~ ~
“You’re Prickly Pear’s Paramour.”
Remember when we were in Morocco?
Remember when you carried me on the
roof by the parapet?
“Were i Spider-Man I would whishhh my hands
over to you and tear your blouse off,
that’s what I’d do, touch the tips
of nipples where the milk used to be”
You have a serpent’s tongue slithering out
“We’re all innocent –
the serpent’s innocent, the mongoose
is innocent
but one of them’s going to win
I’m not even positive it’s nice
to eat vegetables. They might have
tiny little tomato screams. Rhubarb
might be begging for its life
lawnmower out there sounds like
big angry fly
looking for some shit”
You are just so many facets…
“Yeah, there’s the hot water facet,
the cold water facet”
~ ~ ~
and my most recent 6, from 5.15-6.4.2018.
~ ~ ~
Splice of Life
The panicked deer
desperate
dashes three westbound lanes
of 60 mile-per-hour expressway
that no one’s obeying
and with quick wit luck
leaps triumphant the concrete divider
success surging through brain
when SPLATTT
eastbound truck paints partition red.
And yet
she dies in dance of joy
euphoric escape last taste of fate
which rebirth
reshapes as joy over hate.
Live on edge, die on edge,
happy way go round.
And then of course there’s slo-mo-go,
the easier way to roll.
But is it?
~ ~ ~
Philosophy 172
I been working in the quandary
wandering my weird wrong way
If you go when you’re happy
take happy with you
If you go when you’re sad
leave sad behind
Count sheep if you will,
just don’t look in the mirror
~ ~ ~
Zen Box
Kneeling on the floor
before the cat box
removing clayed clumps of piss
and dried shit
then smoothing the surface
I realize this is my Zen sand garden
the urine my sins against others
the shit my sins against myself
the baking soda confession and forgiveness
for past’s smell
so I start new day new
clean
free
knowing I’ll be on my knees again tomorrow
for same old shit
~ ~ ~
Fork U
Washed the dishes
past 24 hours we used
3 tablespoons
1 teaspoon
3 knives
8 forks
one tablespoon and knife every 8 hours
one fork for 3
one teaspoon per 24
could be clue
I mean, 1 goes into 24 24 times
would make a good poem
if I knew where to go
all moments are interesting
not all poetic
and are
~ ~ ~
Conversation with Wife 41
I need to write a poem.
I feel better after writing a poem.
“Then write one.”
I don’t have any poem words.
I don’t have any poem pen.
I don’t have any poem paper.
I’ve got shit and toilet paper, that’s what I got.
There, there’s your poem.
~ ~ ~
Sisyphus Sum
It’s hot with strain of ache and pain
this pushing rock up hill
in another day of try and loss
no hope of less
so grasp what’s good
like chirp of bird
and glint of sun
or inchworm on my arm
sometimes a cloud will move just right
or drop of sweat catch the light
as lack brings laugh
and loss a like
such sips quench my worse
