WET FEET
Sk
 
My city dogs must take their walks
Thru treacherous terrain
Not thru mud nor tangled stalks,
But more dangerous domain
Trails of trash and rubbish routes
Of metal, plastic, glass
Bio-hazards underfoot
Used needles & rubbers we pass.
They don’t seem to notice, tho
The danger at each turn
Noses down, they sniff along
Of trespassers they must learn.
I weave and dodge, tipy-toed
To keep up in fear
But grass that’s wet, you can bet

Having approached the city in a bolshie mood,
With a dark cloudy face,
Ready to plunge his bombardments,
It’s only putting her hurricane lamp on
That forestalled the earthquake happening.
 
His puritanical streak
Befuddled the psyche of the Hen
Sure! He seem to be
The Cock, but
Is he really the Puritan?
 
Being regarded as the capitulum
He shouldn’t float in the
 Ocean of Sharks as the stubborn loony!
For he can coalesce the Tiger and the
Goat and be the folk hero.
 
His wedlock’s climax

Having discerned your dinky
Voice on that thundery evening
I was completely smitten
By you! I still am
Would that ever be castrated?
 
Your benign smile
Robbed the last bit
Of gumption left in me
Gee, how enveloped I was
But who is to be blasted?
 
I became obsessed with you
But you nonchalantly turned me off
Shouldn’t have allowed your
Precious love to brood in
The Holy of holies of my heart, should I?
 
Remember how interlaced
We turned out to be
The bond that binds us together

What makes them so unique?
Is it their abstract identity?
Or is it being cast adrift?
Sure! Sending the Moon to Coventry,
Should not turn their manners abysmal!
 
For without the Moon
Revolving around the Sun
Life becomes devilishly
Complicated business
Oh! How isolated they are.
 
Their cumbersome lineage
Boggles the mind of the curious
But there they hang! Far outshone
The other Stars around them
Would they outshine the Sun as well?
 
Though their life soar
At the speed of light

In the middle of the woods
we stumbled upon
a wild turkey.
On Memorial Day
2007.
My son and I looped around
the Thorn Mountain Bike Trail
until we were hopelessly slowed
and took the Buckeye
in the wrong direction
straight out of Findley.
A peculiar site:
Civilization
for the first time in four or more days.
A farm silo
sitting off Pratt Road,
is the place where we turned back.
At the crossroads of Wyandot
and Hickory Grove
we chose a shorter path
Past the skeletal carcass
of a deer long dead

 
We’ve been up and down
over and around every angle,
now words are exhausted repeats
tied into nooses around our necks.
Maybe we’re both crazy
like our medicine cabinet says
or we need more sunshine
and green vegetables in our diet.
Let’s play another hand of poker-
I’ll up the ante by two Vicodin,
mine are stronger than yours
and you’re sure to win the pot.
Then after I’ll make supper
if you promise to eat your broccoli,
an agreement you’ll surely break
because you only like green beans.

When you came home
I saw flowers in your hair.
Sweet smelling lilacs and tulips
in the garden off Larchmere.
And I lifted you
so you could get a peek inside
where you were supposed to be.
Somewhere along the line
you lost faith in God and me,
and forgot what I told you
about patience,
about the pace at which things travel.
You cleverly disguised this
as disinterest,
and I lost faith in what I believed.
You are easy to get ahold of,
but a difficult woman to reach.
I saw you,
a picture of you,
a physical facsimile

It’s five in the morning
and there is sunlight on Jupiter,
a bright speck
to the naked eye
just north of the hazy crescent moon.
I can discern no visible detail
on this distant gas giant.
Did I spot Ganymede,
did I spot Io?
Did I spy Europa
possible bearer of life?
Oh, are these specks,
tiny Jovian moons
still larger than luna
in our southern sky?
are they a trick of my eyes
and my active imagination?
Because what I see
is a tiny white orb
in my telescope lense.
Mars is not visible this morning.

http://disintegrate-me.com/linepoem.html
 

 
 Of type
we
brought the tulips to bud.
 
Of type
and origin, I
was amusing I suppose now.
 
Little bee, where did
you flutter off to?
Flying off to a thornless flower?
You won’t find pollen there.
 
                               Could you be more obscure