There is someone in the morning.

Some one you may barely see.

But it is always there.

To be with you and never leave.

It is there when you speak.

But will never disturb.

When you go take a walk.

It is there beside you it will lie.

But it won’t be absurd

It is there when you are swimming in a pool.

It is there when you think you’re alone.

It is there when your pick it up.

It is there when you’re on the phone.

It is there when you’re outside.

It is there when you’re watching TV.

Acute Ingenuity
 
I must covet the images that run scared.
Quivers of scenes move unhurried
From the outer edges.
 Past specters seeped in-between my pores,
While I was looking.
Hiding in the pigment until the rage was the
Perfect hue.
 
Not sane, not insane.
 
Illogical proviso dangle and entice my
Madness.
They have remained covert since the
Foray.
Focus now. . You can see them
Move beneath the skin.
Upward.
A march to madness.
Only a mind mass can obstruct
Effectively.

Acute Ingenuity
 
I must covet the images that run scared.
Quivers of scenes move unhurried
From the outer edges.
 Past specters seeped in-between my pores,
While I was looking.
Hiding in the pigment until the rage was the
Perfect hue.
 
Not sane, not insane.
 
Illogical proviso dangle and entice my
Madness.
They have remained covert since the
Foray.
Focus now. . You can see them
Move beneath the skin.
Upward.
A march to madness.
Only a mind mass can obstruct
Effectively.

Acute Ingenuity

I must covet the images that run scared.

Quivers of scenes move unhurried

From the outer edges.

 Past specters seeped in-between my pores,

While I was looking.

Hiding in the pigment until the rage was the

Perfect hue.

Not sane, not insane.

Illogical proviso dangle and entice my

Madness.

They have remained covert since the

Foray.

Focus now. . You can see them

Move beneath the skin.

Upward.

A march to madness.

 
 
my dear, dear Nana,
now dead and buried
 
such an awfully 
long, long time ago,
 
do you really think
I have forgotten you?
 
on the contrary,
at your memory
 
my heart yet throbs:
 
I remember both you …
and the while you taught me—
 
a snot-nosed brown-eyed
dark-haired six-year-old—
 
so sweetly … thoughtfully
 
just how to proper
ope an olden book
 
of much-loved collections
of class’cal poetry
 

 
 
it was Rob who said
he would not lie,
that he’d much rather die …
 
it was Rob who said
 
he’d just as soon be dead
than go too quickly up
to heaven’s feathered bed …
 
it was Rob who said—
 
thick lips betraying not a hint …
of whether truth 
or not he spoke or said—
 
that today’s good deed
by him was done
in jest and all in fun …
 
but after hearing all of that,
what Rob told he did or said
I can’t or shan’t believe …
 

 
 
I spied an elf
Sitting righteously
On the parson’s
 
Mantel shelf,
 
A naughty elf,
All dressed in green,
Who did not very well
 
Explain himself …
 
When then asked if perhaps
He was a leprechaun,
 
With reluctance he did say,
“No. I checked my DNA;
 
I’m just an elf.”
 

 
 
 
 
I stood firm ashore
by the inland sea …
awaiting sign or word,
I had hoped,
of your love for me.
I waited long, I waited hard—
but for naught.
’Twould seem your plighted
fondness suffers
from dry rot.
Aft this longsome lingering,
finally I am free …
to fall in love
with someone else,
evidently.
 
 

Right you bastard, outside!
I’ll thump you so bloody hard your eyeballs will fall out
and you will have to get down and crawl around to find them
and when you put them back in they will be all covered in grit
AND IT WON’T FEEL VERY NICE,
you wanker

ringing in the ears. another
anxious moment disperses itself
in waste like vulturous grains
of sand gone to a hidden register
reporting more hidden light unseen.
the boy’s fingertips become loose
watercolors awash with DNA coded
nightmares. he pulls his slumping
lunchbox from an oak desk without initials
thinking about a freckled face like
an old potato and small fists like
wooden bees. the brown leaves circling the
bus stop are bleached copper by the
sun itching his unlaced sneakers
like dry preying mantises. the