Tuesday, May 8, 2018

My Second Cousin

I have a second cousin
Her name is Rihanna Kowalski
She still wears braces
Though she is 17 years old
My second cousin
Whose name is Rihanna Kowalski
Likes to dance at parties
She has a dog named Harvey
My second cousin
Whose name is Rihanna Kowalski
Excels in all school subjects
But she really likes science
She wants to study astronomy in college
My second cousin
Whose name is Rihanna Kowalski
Is an avid bike rider
She obeys all traffic laws
This is one of the reasons I admire her
Also, like me, she enjoys movies from the thirties
My second cousin
Whose name you by now remember
Is pretty darn cool
Everyone likes her
Also, she has an unusual name

Saturday, May 5, 2018

Late Morning on a Saturday

Happy lesbians doing chores outside their house
A man wearing flip flops despite the foggy cold
A couple canoodling on a bench
People waiting for table outside a busy restaurant
Browsers and buyers in a bookstore
A middle aged woman with a pretty Shih Tzu on a leash
A bicyclist patiently waiting for a light to change
Me walking home purchases in hand — content
A car stops for me as I cross the street
No one home as I enter the house
I dissolve into a million rays of today
The fog outside is thick

Sunday, April 29, 2018

Love Hurts So Good

The exquisite pain of falling in love
The heart variously soars and aches
The melancholy pause
I read the weighty words of wise men
And women
I reach for the next moment
It’s never there
Now always usurps the future
While making sport of the past
And so when I met her it all changed
Conventional thinking unraveled
The horrible ecstasy of her absence and presence
I had to spend eternity with her
My unworthiness like a ball and chain
Stumbling, shambling, rambling
But eventually
We mated and forever were
Humbleness finally pervades
The love is still so painful
Because it is never enough

Monday, January 22, 2018


I contemplated eternity on the angry road
Until the clouds cascaded from the mountains
Where angels danced with the rain
Nirvana escaped me but I persisted
The rolling road widened in suffusion
So I strolled though the Dharma
Peeking under footballs and dancers
Until I found the plywood confusion
The road was wet with memories now
My amble heightened by wisdom
Meditating on the beatitude
And there the journey ended
Awake again from good Karma
So now to dance

Sunday, November 26, 2017

Rainy Afternoon

Dustbin lakeside gabardine jacket
It's lovely raining
Drip drip drop drop
Water water wet wet
Nacho plebiscite aluminum siding
It's chilly in the house
Without the heater on
Sweatshirt is on cool air
Flower pot Mennonite wooden bench
Clouds are thick and heavy
With precipitation
As the duck quacks
Quack quack quack
Candle wick broken kite purple mittens
Rain keep a coming
Soothing me relaxing me
Me me me meing me
Raincoat rawhide watchman's cap
This is the poem I wrote before my suicide
(Not really)

Wednesday, October 25, 2017


Oh my god this is awful the unrelenting pain the misery the living breathing thinking hell the never stop of pain an anguish it is the dark side of death’s empty abyss it is being left waiting in a dark parking lot with no one around with your stomach growling and you don’t know how it will end but it seems impossible that it will ever be this way in the eternity that stretches ahead and there is no weeping or wailing just silent suffering and nothing nothing at all gets done it is the ceaseless repetition of the trivial and inane and banal and there is no access to anywhere else so how did I write this god if I know but here it is and the pain persists

Thursday, September 28, 2017

Like the Decatur Wind

This is my masterpiece
A tour de force
I’m giving it a thumbs up
It’s brilliant
Sublime like the Decatur Wind
An awesome love of apple cheeked ghosts
More angelic in scope and dimension than
All the hope of your Aunt’s oatmeal cookies
I rise above the rest with this powerful
An instant classic
Evocative of rainy March Monday mornings
On a late August sunny April afternoon
(Because it’s time to dance)
An appeal so broad that no one will dare
Open the pickle jar
I laughed, I cried, it became a part of me
Like the forlorn football player taking a knee
Like the angry rebel throwing the tear gas back
Understated and overblown the nexus of triumph
It is like nothing I’ve ever done before
Right up there with Wolfe, Hemingway and Bugs Bunny
There is no I in team but there’s a t in it
I accept your applause and let it wash over me
I’m taking a bow