Unselected Poems

Girl I Met on Vacation

How her eyes pierced and danced like

fish squirming

aloof

entranced

Hold me in the soft night.

Her father looking on

leaning against a palm.

She’d gone to William and Mary

that  perfect college

of classic 17th century American

lore.

Immaculate track; facilities all reminiscent

of presidential upward thrust —

Monticello

and all that must be beautiful, immediate

unhesitant

Now

she studies at Harvard for her PhD.

“Perhaps I’ll work in a company, or teach

for a while.  I’m not sure,” she

says to me.

I chat chattily and politely daring

her eyes drawing nearer and closer

to my very soul in the night —

those dark Victorian eyes —

She might as well have been Emily

Dickinson.

Yet she had a plan

A set logic in motion

a happy formative education.

Her father, of course, was

a physics professor at

Georgetown.

The different paths we are on and

ride along

At least I got to play

Bottom the Weaver in a local

theater rendition of A Midsummer

Night’s Dream.

Of course, she was familiar with

the character.

I had been the unsuspecting star

of that show if I do say so

myself.

Our table was ready and I wished

her and her family a good rest

of their vacation and I, with a

quick crunch of rocks, left the so-called

waiting area, to join my family of lively

wits in the restaurant.

— Key Largo, Florida

The World Spins

The world needs its share

of idiots to keep the shitstorm

churning.

And it needs its poets;

to keep the heavens

yearning.

Grand Old Party

A fiscal nightmare was the bill

All say repeal, repeal,

Make another move, cowboy,

And I’ll turn your face into abstract

Art

Said the outlaw in my own heart

Whenever some republican fuck

Tries to take away my right to survive

The best person to prescribe the human

Condition is after all a doctor

Go fuck yourself.  And feel the Jive.

Nobody

There you go nobody

a glimmer in and out

a foot full of hopelessness ~

nose bent at the spout.

Lie on your bed, tummy

fattening with dinner and breathe.

You’re behind the scenes

~ Dreams all a mess.

Forget your bald head

and your fading eyesight.

Forget your youth now

and what Freudian plight. (!)

You’re a nobody.  Just sketching away.

Relieving the panic of yet another day

And,

To the world your value is this:

Pure gold.

For only on your back does the wide world spin;

Thanks nobody —

Somebody’s gettin’ old,

gin?

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