Running Against The Clock

--to Kristine, for old time’s sake 

Biking by 

The cemetery—no 

Time to stop 

To say “hello” 

To all those 

We knew 

So well so 

Long ago— 

Some other time 

We’ll know better 

To stop 

And say “goodbye” once 

And for all it’s been 

Good to know you.

 

Far-out Anticipation Blues

Where everyone keeps 

Waxing extraordinarily about 

Total silence while waiting 

In the meantime 

For what seems 

A lifetime to hear it through 

All the clamor is really 

Something else— 

See you there?

 

 

Every Picture Tells A Story

You hope success- 

Fully— 

Like this black-and-white 

One for instance, starring 

A skinny blond kid 

In new coveralls fresh 

From the old 

Country, flexing his 

Wannabe Charles Atlas 

Biceps on a dock 

Of a lake near Montesano 

In Washington State, while 

In the immediate background, 

Two burly middle- 

Aged men also decked 

Out in coveralls are 

Getting ready 

To don their swimsuits so 

Maybe as to say “okay” 

To making a good old All-American 

Splash, too—go ahead, 

Kiddo, after you.

 

 

Once Upon A Discouraging Jackdaw's Word

oh that reverberating 

sharp staccato chattering 

of the splendid times 

we all had, gone 

before we knew it 

like a bat out

of hell and high 

water didn’t I tell you not to breathe a word of it, 

to just hold 

your breath, stop

your non-stop cawing 

and eat, 

crow?

 

Ephialtis, The Despicable Nightmare's Name

History’s rife 

With examples 

Like yours, 

And I have to admit 

It must be harrowing 

All all get out, having 

Such a monicker and 

To be stigmatized 

Forever a traitor, 

Your name inexorably 

Etched in infamy, 

While collateral-

 

Damaged matrix victims 

Of your treachery 

Twitch and turn 

In their sleep, unable 

To come to terms 

With the sellout 

Slaughter of comrades 

Carried out 

In your good-for-nothing name— 

Despicably (though aptly enough), 

Your only claim to fame.

 

Undertaker's Haiku

When the assembly 

Line’s finished, what’s left over 

For the graveyard shift?

 

 

Stable, As In Genius

To be able, perfectly 

Logical in the belief 

That every word slipping 

Off your tongue means

 

Exactly what you meant 

To say before being 

Uttered, wouldn’t that be just so 

Peachy utterly dumbfounding, 

You nutty fruitcake?

 

Greek Orthodox Easter Constitutional Redux

Resurrected 

Every year like 

Some clockwork Lazarus, 

You’ll find me taking in the latest 

Changes to my surroundings; 

Since my last appearance, nothing 

Much of import to report, save 

For that almost imperceptible yet 

Inescapable feeling 

I’ve been here before— 

Know what I mean?

 

Spoiled Brat

Poetry has better things 

To do with itself besides 

Tucking you in 

Night after night, 

Duckie.

 

 

Space

Mindless racer, stop 

And think that’s what fills

 

The void in your heart once 

You jettison all that 

 Precious junk orbiting it.

 

 

In Praise Of Timely Poetic Revision

You one of those “vanguard” 

Poets who know where 

Their vehicle’s headed

From the beginning? Time 

To put it in reverse 

Before it backfires 

With you still clutching 

The wheel, your 

Entire production number 

Suspended in midair 

Just over the next scenic hill— 

All you have to do is buckle up 

And wait it out— 

It’ll be over before 

You know it.

 

 

How The World Turns

It could

Care less about your so- 

Called life’s work—the words 

You’ve chosen 

With so much TLC, 

Now hate how 

You tendered them simply 

To show off more 

Than they could ever 

Hope to endure.

 

Incurable Romantic

You believe 

In things far beyond 

Your ability 

To reach them— 

Making whatever you do 

So unbelievably 

Touching.

 

 

Cartesian Dead End

Out sleep- 

Walking, how 

Do we think we’re not 

Dreaming never 

Tells us so.

 

 

If Haiku Is Still "Greek" To You

 

Never utter it—

Barbarians tried their best

And came out tongue-tied.

 

Saint-Exupery's

Twilight captures 

Arachnid's 

No longer ephemeral 

Eyes eying night- 

Flight.

 

 

Bleeding On A Fence

Barbed wire all around-- 

Still the animated 

Heart yearns 

To find itself always 

Rising without a whimper, 

Stopping only when it is well-

Suspended above it.

 

 

Human Time Bomb

Because we know 

Far too little of what 

Makes us tick, zilch 

About who lit the fuse 

Or when it’s going to go 

Off, and too damn much 

To give a shit about it, 

Let alone fan it till 

It tilts 

Our very own belittled 

Known universe, 

We do nothing 

But persevere— 

So magnificently 

It hurts.

 

 

Michaux's Oxymoron

Darkness moves 

In mysterious ways; 

It's a mystery how 

It moves us, too 

Yet how still

It stays.

 

Discordancy

dis 

order 

is 

never 

discovering 

that 

which 

you 

never 

knew

 

 

Bittersweet Breathalyzer

--for William Michaelian 

To take one's breath 

For granted, does this 

Mean business as usual? 

Or must you 

Stop after each one 

And wonder 

If the next time 

You breathe in, 

You're going to 

Find yourself

Out of breath 

Over the limit 

Again.

 

America, My Country 'Tis Of Thee

To be sure, 

Renne Good is not the first 

Poet to be snuffed out 

By evil,

But by looking 

The other way, we 

Make doubly sure 

She won't be the last.

 

 

Calling All MAGA Boot-Lickers Come Rain Or Shine

Y'all start lickety-split a 

Things-to-do list 

For that top crum- 

Bum of yours and don't

 

Stop even if you run 

Out of saliva

 

For the spit- 

Shine 

That comes after,

Right on time.

 

 

Chorus Of Cicadas

We are here to help you 

Remember together how

 

The wind shapes 

The pines and to hear 

With the approaching 

Twilight, the song

 

Of our longing all ready 

Set to disappear.

 

 

Elusive Illusion

Illustrious as ever 

An unforgettable image is, 

This one was also so 

Riviting it took forever 

To reappear--see us? 

We're still, waiting here.