Tuesday, June 27, 2017

At Sea

We won't eat waffles, pancakes, or French toast,
We won't drink coffee, tea, or orange juice,
We won't read bedtime verse by Dr. Seuss,
We won't acknowledge Uncle Reggie's ghost,
We won't bring harlots to the weenie roast,
We won't make gravy for the Christmas goose,
We won't complain our shoelaces are loose,
And we'll be satisfied by that. Almost.

We will expect our friends to understand
That things will break down unexpectedly,
And while I'm copying Gray's Elegy
(But duller, grimmer, and extremely bland)
We'll claim our wariness has us unmanned,
And everything we want is here, at sea.

Thursday, June 15, 2017


He heard me growling, and he told me, "Stop!"
He said, "We do this slyly, silently,
We make our souls true, and our bodies free."
I made a guttural, loud "Hmm! Pork chop,"
And thought I very nearly saw the top
Come off his head. It was lovely to see
What I had dreamed: a monkey in a tree,
An envelope of mist, a sudden pop.

I've done each goddam vocal exercise
Until I'm sick and tired of every sound
A human mouth can make. I'll turn around
And look that snake director in the eyes
Hoping the omen in the entrails lies.
It said we're rabbit meat — I am the hound.