Monday, February 19, 2018


"Here endeth the enchanted woods," he wrote,
"Where princes walked with faeries, soldiers vied,
Where fearsome wizards magicked, damsels sighed,
And brave knights met with dragons, whom they smote
To weave their scales into a shining coat
That cried their heroism far and wide."
I tried to weave and smite, sometimes I cried,
But mostly I looked for an antidote.

Here is the sound of words, the easy speech
Of everyday impressions and desires,
The sweet smile, the illuminating fires
On moonless nights. I want a tongue to teach
A true enchantment, our own words to reach
All ears, without favour and without wires.

Wednesday, February 07, 2018

You Know This

You think you know this: All white people are
Right-handed, and diseased. A rabbit's eye
Gleams harshly when three lovers say good-bye.
If there are seven moonbeams in a jar
We'll meet with pirates in a Stockholm bar.
A sharp retort will make the ladies sigh,
No man has elbow pads, and pigs will fly
When some child wishes on a shooting star.

The summer grass is orange. "Orange" rhymes
With jodhpurs. Jodhpurs make the roses bloom.
Glass stinks. The question about "who" and "whom"
Concerns no human being. There are crimes
That benefit Venusian goats, sometimes.
The horse is never worthy of his groom.