Release

“It’s not
cancer,”
and there
was a breath,
a breath
like that
first breath
upon being
released from
the constriction
of the womb,
full of
hope and
promise
and joy

Marathon

Pacing
waiting for the
mailman
Pacing
waiting for the dog to
poop
Pacing
waiting for the phone to
ring
Pacing
Pacing
because, damn, I
I’ve forgotten
something
Pacing
waiting for a
poem
Pacing
praying for the panic to
ease
Pacing
waiting for the hour to
pass
Pacing
Pacing
because the future is coming too
fast
Pacing
to outpace the
past

Mayhem In Suburbia

It’s chaos
on my street,
neighbor kids
screaming
blood-curdling
screams
from their
trampoline,
garish
yellow-wheeled
ice cream truck
inching menacingly
past blasting
Pop
Goes
the
Weasel
at painful
decibels
the old fellow’s
a madman
holding the wheel
so relaxed,
expressionless
in the midst
of these facts –
doesn’t he know
the neighbor died
a few days ago?
And I don’t have
any cash.

Interrogation

Thunder is pounding at the front door,
lightning is leering aggressively
through the palladium window
next, I fear, waterboarding
but I know nothing –
perhaps a small something –
that squirrels have a thing
for sunflower seeds
and bees
are keen
on flowers,
hardly anything
to appease
a summer shower
thirsting to swell
its knowledge.
Thunderstorms
have known well
such trivia
since the
opening bell of
forever

Spaniel

Taking advantage of my kindness
he saunters beneath my dangling toes
in calm assurance of my compliance
sweeping back and forth along his spine,
his personal buddha dispensing bliss

this, and healthy sustenance,
a selection of plush resting
spots in blue and tan
and regular tete-a-tete
which he, in his kindness,
pretends to understand

Tent City Theology

We thank you
truly
o’ King
for this
bounteous
harvest of pain
o’ do tell us
again
of the
treasures
you’ve saved
for our
devoted
faithful
deaths,
alone,
undone in
mental
wards,
starving
at this
table of
promises

Divine Opera

The gray
catbird
looks nothing like a cat

I can overlook that

Its melodious
aria
drifting
deliciously
from deep
in the
magnolia
moves me
to set aside
such pettiness,
a performance
so grand
the gods
are in
attendance

Cradle

Blood red
Orange
Africa
Like a zircon
gouged from
the ground of
Tanzania
Like a shimmering
sweltering
serengeti sunset
Like blood on
Sierra Leone
diamonds
Like the
corner of the
Zambian flag
Like the
feverish
flow
of my
ganglion
imagination