Poems Twenty-Four Through Thirty (Plus), Poem-A-Day, "Ten Nature Haiku"

sleeping late into

a November afternoon;

dreaming in color

the woodpecker stops,

perhaps he heard me shouting,

shotgun in my hand

the snapping turtle

warns us with his vicious fangs:

"no skinny-dipping"

raccoons tap their beaks

against unyielding metal:

nightly ritual

yesterday's ( Read more... )

My Sudden Appearance

I step outside of the apartment

to get some air

in the middle of the night

say about 2 am

and I notice something,

down the little side road

behind my house,

something about the size of a dog

walking in my direction.

I can't hear anything.

When he steps into the light

about ten feet from me

I see that it's a coyote;

he seems as ( Read more... )

A. D.

The first has got to be

the cruelest day in April by far,

not just because that’s the day

everyone lies to one another

and then celebrates the lie

by calling each other a fool,

but because that stupid, funeral sunlight

in the top floor windows

of the tallest building in the city

shines in our eyes even when it’s overcast

and half past six; ( Read more... )

Here is poem number 19. Yes, I'm aware that I am behind;
but I'm also trying to be forward. I'll be totally honest here:
this is one of the HARDEST poems I have ever had to write.
It took a lot out of me, but I think this is what happens
sometimes when we push ourselves beyond where we feel safe.

||||

The Big Book of Erotic Ronald McDonald Photography

( Read more... )

Don’t Recycle

If I told you

that I wanted you

to throw my body

into the garbage can

when it’s time for me to die

would you show me

that you love me

by discarding me

in the manner I desire?

I don’t know why

we make and produce things

only to eventually throw them away;

there oughta be a law

makes it wrong for us to do that,

makes us have to commit ( Read more... )

Muslim Father Orders Daughter Killed Over Short Skirt

Nine o’clock takes its time rising slowly in the old city,

and a copy of Monday’s Pravda lands

on the downtown doorstep of NTBK Computer Supplies.

Above the fold’s a photo of Rashida Kirimova,

a medical student sacrificed to the pistol grip of a father’s faith,

a passion older than the ( Read more... )

No One You Know

I can explain the mess, baby.

Listen, just listen for a minute -

haven’t you ever wanted to return

to a moment in your life, some time, some place

where you know what you did was wrong and make it right?

Are you telling me you’ve never said a word

you wish you could take back?

Don’t you ever look over your shoulder at night ( Read more... )