IDLER, came to senses, nowhere, tangled in a thicket.
BERTH then took on freighter, crowded among other lost souls.
ORBIT left, all is blackness dotted by sharp star light. Does he
FETCH up on new shore, new understanding? Does he find a guide?
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Ovine gloom
MISSY, I miss you a lot, my sunshine, moonshine
OVINE. This, your resting place, your supine space, midst yellow
BROOM – a kind of womb with heaps of room – where your
SOAPY wool now cools, while my soul’s a darkroom full of gloom.
Sheep got in
SOAPY mop across the tile,
BROOM the boards of floor,
MISSY didn’t shut the door:
OVINE spree left, well, a pile.
Ah, cruel fate!
The
SUITE was tiny, my stay not helped by the
TRUNK being undeliverable. Ah,
CRUEL fate! Even though I don’t travel
ALLOT, I still have the worst traveller’s tales.
Son of Ozymandias
CRUEL does the sun beat down on desert sand.
TRUNK of stone, legless, headless–giant–stands,
SUITE of servant figures small and toppled round.
ALLOT him but little thought: he’s also in the ground.
Cozy Saturday
IDEAL winter Saturday: spent home, warm, listening to
CHESS records, Etta James perhaps.
SHADY spot in summer is the inverse for comfort, but in winter it’s
SHAWL wrapped and cozy, with a soundtrack from yesteryear.
Stain
BOBBY, with considerable difficulty, removed the
STAIN – or so he thought. Pulling it out of the
DRIER he discovered the stain wasn’t gone, merely
PALER.
Quiet for a Change
STAIN from vomit at the corner is
PALER today, with sky brighter.
DRIER forecast, too. Yet:
BOBBY knows there’ll be another wet night when it all kicks off.
I’m in love…
TOUCH me, and my flesh begins to
BURST. In the room I hear a
CREAK – it’s my heart, tip-toeing.
RADIO static is the sound in my head.
The Last Radio
RADIO still has power in the skyscraper basement,
BURST of squeals sometimes breaks the static.
TOUCH of surfaces grimes fingers, no cleaning for years.
CREAK of anything here makes you pray it’s only a rat.