Thursday, February 28, 2013

words with friends

letters to form words
with friends
we have a secret language
i tease you
with wet
and lips
and even

and you send me
and dewy
and vex
and douse

now i only have
the pale moon
for i am out
of letters.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

songs at dusk (old man river)

His voice floats
out to the water
out to the river
sung deeply down
in baritone
rich like the roots-
and darkly mysterious

sung over their heads
but meant for the water
that big old muddy
his song so loved
he sang it over again
and again, every year.

And at the end of the day
the crowd swells
and sway
they don't even know
what he's singing about
they are happy just to
drink and shout
for him to sing
it again and again,
and its as if
no one even sees
the orchestra there.

And the irony is lost
upon the people who
insist he sing

the old man river song
over and over again,
because he will
and because
it seems to mean something...

In Memory of James Hyter voice of Old Man River For Open Link Night


Tuesday, February 19, 2013

I don't go there anymore

I can't breathe there
there is not enough air
and the others in this zone
are not there when I'm home.

Atrophy? Maybe.
Paranoia, for sure,yah.
The neurons are old,
no longer so bold.

I don't go there anymore
so don't try to take me.
I'm fine right here
my bed is near.

Like walking on thin ice
after falling thru twice.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Thinking thoughts at Three A.M.

My eyes pop open at 3 a.m.
I blink
What woke me up again?
I think.

An while I lay
and wonder why..
I notice something
is, indeed, awry.

Over my head,
above my eyes,
imagine my fright!
and great surprise.

There is a trail
of tiny footprints
up on the ceiling!!
Now, you know
this sent my
imagination reeling.

What is this thing
walking around
above my head
and upside down
while I'm in bed?

This little piece is for the open link night at Dverse poets pub.. Images borrowed from the web...thanks web.

Friday, February 8, 2013

I am from .....part deux


I am from tittering and muffle it
shut up, your bobby's gonna schmell it.
Blum blum bluming to the house of the girl
with purple feet,
where it is running away weather.
Forever and ever.

I am from "Unison-Venison
And I'll note it."
From Pappa and Babba
and Mamba and Margarine
Little head and Ed.

For Ehhlen Pins Burnette
and Moochus Perryus, too
It's a Baby Cat, Baby Cat.
And Crane the Butler Set
Cosmo Uriah Benzentine
Mitha-Migga Vaughn.
And Alfie and Moon and Rocky.

From globules and nodules
and fungus and yeast!
Why, Rocky should ring
like a phone, at least.
Brrrring Brrrring!
What did you bring?
Me here for?

From Note the Lips
to blue suede hips
And Skelly had a party.
For you, it may all be a mystery
But makes such perfect sense to me.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

The Zen of Laundry

Women's work, she irons,
smoothing the wrinkles-
making limp now crisp
starches and sizing.
The smell of
hot linen is like incense
and a balm to her nerves,
brings calm to her hands.
Hands that flutter like birds
wring at each other savagely
and reach for old habits.

Hiss of hot steam rising
she presses down,
as seamless sleeves
take on new store creases.
Buttons spread wide
for the hot metal penis intruder
smoothing the wrinkles between them.
A cuff, a collar, minor details,
hems that won't lie flat.

A creaking wooden board stands
waiting at attention,
its constant companion cold and quiet now;
but hot and hissing is
a thing alive.
A seeking, steaming intruder
Waiting for the call
of the wrinkled, the limp
and the woman with the restless hands.