Thursday, July 9, 2015

If you were a fish

If you were a fish
I wouldn't cut you
into nice chunks
for a chowder
with cream crackers
on the side.

I wouldn't sharpen
my best knife
to make of you
a handsome filet.

I wouldn't stuff you
with Indian rice
and Irish butter
to serve you
whole and proud
on my longest platter.

I would get out
my cleaver
and bring it down
upon you
and bring it down
upon you
and bring it down
upon you
until I had made
you into shreds
fit only for the least
of all fish dishes
fish sticks.

Monday, May 25, 2015

The wind its ass kicked by Canada

The wind its ass kicked by Canada
Searched until it found a
Smaller victim and is now bullying
a solo Siberian maple
Until its blossoms fall in
Clusters yellow on the asphalt
Its trunk bending to shelter them
Or, perhaps, to whisper I’m sorry

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Hello Moon

Shining through all the reset password emails
and the waiting and seeing if the dog perks up
and the systematic finding throughout the house
of nine flat screwdrivers
when one phillips is all you need
and the dropping of the iron on your bare foot
and the epiphany while pumicing the rust stains
out of the toilet that that the boss you'd give a kidney
to never have to see again has the same eyes as
the mean girl who stomped on your foot hard when
she was Joseph and you were Mary and you didn't hit
her back because nice girls and saints don't hit
although forty years on if you could get a do-over
you would wrench the shepherd's crook from her arm
and knock her into the middle of next month
and the getting on hands and knees to hose
aged cabbage out of the rolling garbage bin
onto the driveway where you hope
some creature of the night will eat it
so it will be one less thing you will have to clean up
and the rolling up of your eyeballs as you blow
the damp hair out of your eyes
and the sudden sight of the gibbous moon
shining through the all of that that you have made of
your life
shining through
hello moon

Monday, April 6, 2015

A Sin of Marketing

I suspect
if there turns out to be
anything more than nothing
an imp wearing hemp
will direct me to 
a block of cubicles
in hell
specially reserved
for those who have
ever signed off
on the purchase
of 25,000 beer can cozies
made of stretchy fuzzy stuff
that will survive
nuclear holocaust
the bright purple
undimmed
the university logo
in sparkly thread
glittering
at no one


Monday, March 30, 2015

The Chickadee Trio

A trio of chickadees
lands on the feeder bar
next to a red-winged blackbird
and for an instant all is an
iStock image keyworded diversity
then Patty Chickadee
hip bumps Maxine
and Maxine hip bumps Laverne
second verse same as the first
and then there's a wing protest
and then there's a squawk
and the blackbird eats the air
flapping his red-tabbed wings
to stay level with the feeder
and yell your mama wears army boots
while the chickadee trio
lunches

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

What if all of this

What if all of this
is the punishment
for having used pages
of my King James
revised
for rolling papers

(It's thirty years on
and I only took
from the concordance
no red letters
I swear)

What if all of this
is the punishment
for that afternoon
in Whitby Hall
in room 413

(with the view of the maple
I thought of as mine
and the artificial pond
with the artificial name)

What if all of this
would have been different
if I had sacrificed
instead
the onion skin
over the frontispiece sketch
in my 1899 Cranford

(What if all of this
has been
outer darkness)

Monday, March 9, 2015

At some point midstream

At some point midstream
people stop asking how are you
You stand there out of breath
on the rock that is Monday
after making the leap
from the rock that is Sunday
a leap that is equivalent
to translating Beowulf into Western Yiddish
while climbing Everest
on a moonless night
when all you know of Western Yiddish
is gonif and putz and maybe matzoh
when you should have worn something better than sneakers
when the crank to the crank flashlight
won't crank