Stranded.
I don’t want to be stranded
like Robinson Crusoe
on an island
of pain
with no rescue in sight
another weekend;
so, doc,
can you fill out
the prescription again
that one with real bite?
Stranded
miniature
Creature
Creature.
That stain
on the sidewalk
something Neanderthal
like a creature
on a cave painting
Bad Prophet
You prophesy
there’s a flood coming
so I make a run for it
dash inside
flip the lid —
there’s only a trickle.
You fickle !
Sleep
I sleep in short sentences.
Submariner
Submariner.
When I’m tearing up the pool
a one-lap wonder
& my goggles come loose
& the water rushes in
I feel like
a submariner
on the
Kursk.
*pic courtesy of pexels
Overgrown
Sometimes my poems are cluttered with adverbs and adjectives,
subjunctive clauses, desultory detours like this front yard is overgrown
with weeds. When my poems gets like this. when you can’t see the structure,
it is time to bring out the whipper snipper. Time for a trim.
Some Men
Some Men
Some men walk around with their hands clasped behind their backs as if handcuffed, their posture stooped. They look like they’ve given up on life, prisoners of age and ennui. If ever I get like this, I tell my partner, shoot me.
Good to Go
and spring awake
at 4.30 in the morning
with two poems
slogging it out
in yr head,
you’re good to go
you’ve had your 8 hours
Bug Eyed with Happiness
Look at him now
bug-eyed with happiness
evergreen with the springtime
of love.
Remember him bleached & wilting
on that park bench by the bull-rushes?
Well, look who just turned up.
His life is on an upswing.
Whoopee, he says,
as he goes higher and higher,
his love looking on.
Secret
How was it, love? How was yr cuppa?
Dark and warm, thanks.
Dark and warm?
Yes, like a secret.
John Malone 