SHUSH doldrums! Blues begone!
MIRTH wants out, will jolly about.
SKULL may hold life’s full welter, yet
BURST will out a rolling rollick.
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Goodbye, Lucy
CHUCK runs pell-mell from football held,
WHARF arrived, signs up to merchant marine.
PROXY of his escape: every storm at sea and risk of
WRECK–better, always, than malice on repeat.
Whackamole
WHACK a mole, ineffably great mishear and misspell, the
PRINTed ‘guacamole’ on menu unremarked for years,
FREED, finally, posting foodie pics and someone
[E]QUIPs ‘orthographical genius’.
Not quite there yet
PRINT the news that I’ve been
FREED to stand up strong against my foes, to
EQUIP the world from head to toes.
WHACK! What? You gave me a bleeding nose!
[Possibly scraping the bottom of the barrel today...]
Raincoat
WRUNG out the soaked, saturated
RAINY-raincoat, feeling choked, abnegated,
FRAIL and revoked, bifurcated, my
MANIA well and truly at work again.
Frail Polis
FRAIL polis survives another contest,
MANIA may be waning, but also vitality:
WRUNG out, spent, knife edged poised:
RAINY days so long now, do we remember the sun?
Story’s flaw
STING of salty tears, remembering:
CIRCA 25, starting to realize the great limits,
DRAMA’s tragic seam, story’s flaw, is who I am.
BELLY for all this waned, then. Yet grace is deep enough.
Repetition
‘CIRCA’ turned up a week ago, so it
STINGs and gives me trauma to use it yet again. My
BELLY, in fact, has churned, like there’s a full-scale
DRAMA in the innards down below.
The Last War Never Obliges
ENEMY’s first blow falls from the blue,
AXIOMs of surprise and daring rewarded,
NAVAL mastery initially achieved, at the
ONSET of what would be an air war-war is always cruel.
Hello?
SPOUT forth a much too-friendly
HELLO, a far too-friendly nine
CARAT gold sort of hello, a bland
ADOBE baked brick kind of hello.