No self respecting poem wants to hang with me. As I’m apt to slap that poesy into the ether too early, still gasping, and all agog at anxious afterthought alterations. A bespoke joke birthing an interior punch-line rhyme, way before delivery time. Because juncture is the jive. That toot sweet hive be honey. Muse money. Currency.
Dark
Light
Mawkish Maybe
Mawkish Maybe Some times it just hurts to post. Especially when poemin’. When you think something is gonna…
Doesn’t Pare
Doesn’t Pare No longerA mid-morningOr an early eveningNor a late afternoon lunchWith a before sunset scotch I imbibe…
Calling Cadence And Crimping Chronometers
Calling Cadence And Crimping Chronometers I have, as of yetNot opted to fall back Ya knowOur collective dickering…
Vaulting
Vaulting There’s no feelingLike no feelingSorta double dealingMaybe But babyWhen there is no ceilingHow low can you goIs…
K-9 …K- reverse k- K
K-9 …K- reverse k- K This autumnAlready an afterthoughtfraught with store-boughtlikeill-health inflationIs gonna nix any staringInto the eyes…
Breaking Breath Taking
Breaking Breath Taking It’s evening and your gonnaHave to forgive my breathing…The wheezing Right It is an atmosphere…