Saturday, August 27, 2011

Busker, Troubadour, Beggar, Thief

A poem is not a poem
unless it whines,
mines the shiny
sour candies
from the tragic clowns'
pickle underground.

pickle sellers'
word vaudville

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Dreaming Memories

Reality doesn't
bother me any more.
I have undisciplined hopes
composed without
reference to dates.

While everybody is young
I never test myself
but let my hopes run
as if I were one of them.

Everybody is young,
seizing administration of the world,
waving young arms and I
am hoping without reason.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Baseline Friendship

My parasites
want to keep me
weak but alive,

love me,
after a fashion,
unlike the worms
that come later.

My enemies
for a time
are theirs.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Citizens of Suffolk

The people you see
you know what they are doing.
They walk tall and silent
with pretty smiles.

Aware of what they own,
what they grew up with
no one will touch that
having a vote, scaring opponents.

I see them
as I pass them in Siona's car
the forests shine from the
deep hills afternoon August sun.

Tuesday, August 09, 2011

I am

eight pair
of K-Mart underwear, a
drawful of socks,
extra-large t-shirts,
two pairs of shorts,
khaki pants,

re-gifted e-bay stuff.
When I vanish there will be
little to give away

in the land
of questions where
everything is

Afternoon at the Beach

I sit in the water
as the tide comes in
letting the sea spank me
through the seat of my chair.

I'm going to sit here
I tell her
until the tide comes in
and that will be
over my head.

Friday, August 05, 2011

Yesterday I Had Enough