The Path to Former Glory

ERODE in pursuit of former glory that glory’s every institution:
STATE’s purpose to smoothe out faction by orderly succession.
WACKY quacks in bombast push to fore for faster diminution.
TASTY! cheered satirists then, who now groan from such oppression.

If The Kraken Still Had Eyes

NEWLY found specimen, giant squid, eyes the size of dinner-plates.
PUPILs, slits in light, plates in the deep, always seem to watch you,
UTTER fascination, thrill for the museum-goers. What if it were alive?
BRINE? If I were in there with it? It would see me . . . it’d be the last thing I ever see.

Warm embers in old age…

SUGAR, sugar, I’d love to buy you A ROSE,
but the florist’s shut and the car is broke.
ELDER, my elderberry, there’s no KNEED;
I know ya love me, and that ain’t no joke.          

What Trees Might Recount

SUGAR sap pressure ebbing, yet bare arms stay held aloft in winter’s cold.
KNEED with branch knots, gnarled giant stands firm in time.
ELDER, awaiting springs, you watched our generations as they
AROSE, then fell. If you could spread our tales like a rustling canopy!