Saturday, December 31, 2016

Sonnet for the New Year

Two thousand sixteen was a stupid year,
A year of bad decisions and of votes
For liars, bullshitters, and randy goats,
Time for the fatheads, drinking too much beer
And talking too much trash, for gloom and fear,
A year of oily varnish in six coats,
Of falsity with dark, repulsive notes,
Of emptiness displayed in high-tech gear.

I only hope two thousand seventeen
Is no worse. I don't have enormous hopes
For this or any other year. One copes,
One listens to the news, one isn't keen
On promises, on fresh displays of spleen.
Let's just survive this round. We're on the ropes.

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Cat Knowledge

I fed the cat and shimmied out the door,
Suspecting there was danger in the air.
I met a man with no nose on the stair
Eating a green pear and an apple core,
And on the sidewalk, trying to restore
The balance of the urban landscape there,
A woman with black eyes and purple hair
Fed squirrels, munched on hazelnuts, and swore.

We all love squirrels, but the atmosphere
Has grown oppressive now. I turned and spat:
The woman looked a little like a bat,
The man with no nose may have had no ear,
And we were all controlled by spite and fear.
It might be too late now. Just ask the cat.

Thursday, December 08, 2016

Of Middle Size

The entomologist likes little things,
But she has large friends. I'm of middle size,
With my petite elbows, and big blue eyes,
So she's become confused. An aphid's wings,
She's clear on that, or why a hornet stings,
But men are hard to fathom. They tell lies,
White ones and dark, believe things you despise,
And never offer substance without strings.

She knows it's not as simple as all that,
People are complicated. She is, too,
A woman who likes crawling things, who grew
To love digesting silence, like a cat,
Who wears unlikely flowers on her hat,
And understands the world the way I do.