Saturday, July 24, 2010

not always the hero

ok, so, just to show I’m not
making myself always the hero,
i got off the crowded bus smiling,
saw a flash of white

flapping large as a napkin
right on the front of me.
my zipper half way down,
my shirt was sticking out.

Friday, July 23, 2010

oh, darling you'd think i hardly hear you

for me
no mail for decades.
nary a post in the box,
only cobwebs on my cobwebs.

no need for an in box.
that space by my door
could be permanent no peddler signs
for every holiday occasion.

and now this,
my sixty-fifth birthday year,
i have already received
more than sixty-five solicitations,

not from a chick
to walk me across the street
down to the corner bar
and whisper “watch both ways” into my ear.

what arrives is another offer
for an inexpensive hearing aide.
i’m sixty-five - they’ve got my number
and must be selling it door to door.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Bee Gone



You best bee learning . What’s a bee for? Bee's wax. What do I call this poem? Is it Bee gone or just Gone. I’ll work that out later. The next part concerns you.

Because you're dead doesn’t mean you have nothing more to learn. Let's start there.

You don’t just die and get angel food cake with ice cream and a gold beanie. No, seems there’d be a school for the dead to teach what they didn’t learn on earth.

Straighten ‘em out, work ‘em a bit to make saints out of them; or do you think they just get sent back to earth, recycled stupid. I suppose it could be. Let ‘em stumble along again on their own, and see if they can do any better. I don’t know how it works.



Bee Gone


sitting on the back porch
smoking, having morning coffee
a small bee came zipping around
persistent, wouldn’t go away.

i thought perhaps it could be the spirit
of my dear friend, or my uncle
coming back this warm summer day
checking out how things are going.

staying near
making circles
all alone
going fast.

i blew smoke on him,
brushed him on his way,
not to be disrespectful,
but, he’s got to learn.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

The BP oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico began late May or early June.
I guess I may be stuck there.



tough time

tooling down the road
a wild turkey on the right,
standing where you’d be
if you were thumbing a lift.

i blew past him doing fifty plus.
geeze, he was big. big as a dog.
had he heard of the oil spill, do any of them know?
is that why he was out walking? was he stunned?

this is a tough time
appalling, unequaled.
great damage has been done
to the waters, to the life, to the earth.

and we are the caretakers.
oh, what we have we have left for our children,
this legacy we’ve created,
all for pieces of silver.

i thought to continue to write here, to divert attention
away from thoughts of great sadness - disaster.
let me tell you - it isn’t easy, it is sad.
nothing is easy now. so sad.