Sunday, September 29, 2013

A Rich Man

A pocketful of promises makes me
A rich man, an impressive empty man,
Regretting nothing but that useless plan
For living well, that clueless certainty
About uncertain things. A maple tree
I climbed by standing on a garbage can
Stands mocking my despair, with rare élan.
The can is gone, and I stare helplessly.

I had no plan for this: displacement, change,
Anything new. I promised, and I sinned,
They promised me in turn, my palms were skinned,
The promises covered a wider range
Than previously, and they have grown strange.
A rich man apprehends the passing wind.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Intrepid Certainly

I am intrepid, but my brains are loose.
I'm patient, but my stupid friends can't wait.
We live in penury, this grand estate
Our home, together with a half-dead moose.
I'm leading from the back of the caboose
To triumph: fear is overcoming hate.
Alone, as always, with my lifelong mate,
I worship Jupiter, and laugh at Zeus.

You don't remember anything we planned,
So I've decided to prepare a cow
For something strange, seen certainly, somehow.
The spice of life has gotten rather bland,
And all my limbs have gotten out of hand,
And in the end, I'm starting over now.