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Sunday, November 26, 2017

Every House

Every house I ever entered
whether to live in or breathe of -
- awhile, I would keep trying
To find the cornermost corner,
At the angle furthest from
When you enter the door.

And then when I encountered
each such corner, I sat down
in the comfortable darkened edge
yet to see the light of knowledge
-That usually pervaded a house -
of who I was, when I entered it.

Yesterday was different.
I had set myself up to fail,
And found that my last corner
Had in turn, turned upon me.
I turned back from my corner
To face the rest of the room
And I was awash in light.

Wednesday, August 09, 2017

The Somersaulting Heart

I think of leaving all this behind

but the furthest that I’ve got

are peremptory boasts (a wish) that

my heart lies somewhere better.

Still, slow retreating steps’ll do;

hold me in better stead I guess

than going forth where I’m never true

a penny-counting half-witness.

A few days ago, a stab of jealousy -

like a poisoned dart - enveloped in me

a nice, deceiving warmth, you know

almost what they call ‘inner glow’.

It was at first, a fling with Art;

tho now I’d like to be committed.

The asylum’s not far, but my heart is flung

somersaulting away, all song and drama.

Saturday, June 24, 2017

Spud Piece

You enter the room

there are two chairs

one has a potato

you sit next to that one

you don’t happen to know,

what it’s for, how it’s this

Phenomenon (but just before

you said that; I stopped you).

The potato is alive.

no boo - not in the realm

of the Possessed, you just know

the vibe a living thing has.

But the truth is, the potato,

it’s me. I wish I was only

aloo-ding to a piece of fried me.

But i’m just a spotty spud.

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Roundabout Truths

If we can – freely –
admit to ourselves that the
Underprivileged automatically
lead more virtuous lives
and the righteous follow in file:

then we might suspend this
acting out we do in difficult ways;
misdirected (almost) always
on unsuspecting souls & elbows
[it’s a privilege to be unlovable]

Then we might even find ways
to answer the oldest question ever posed
How to pass the time? This time, with fewer scars;
who knows? We might even make ourselves

There’s virtue in being useful; mostly
it’s honest and has constructive results -
- usually. When I sit with my grandma a while
I feel I have been of some use.
And I pat my own deserving back for it.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Witchful, Watchful

There she sits, always across
The room from me, distant
Enough that I can’t really tell
If she’s looking at me and smiling

Or if that wily smiling fetching
flirt is someone else’s to tackle,
for the moment. I gather, only
to disperse, my thoughts and fears.

Just so, her legs aren’t impossibly
Long; hair tousled in a fashionable way.
Smidge of ennui flickers on her face
I sigh; I rise to take her hand.

A dubious idea rather dismissed
ere I destroy her charmerie.
In my mind I blow her a kiss
her eyelashes acknowledge me softly.

Saturday, January 14, 2017


Sometime this season
You'll stop the spiralling
Out of control. The
bristling'll cease.

You'll bless your breath
As it leaves your body,
and you heave 'self to
and fro quietly.

The colours are the
 kind that seep through
The folds they fall,
becoming you.

Drive about town;
a deserted look
Eyebrows that have
been abandoned.

Persisting sulk
Burl won't go away
Acquainting with
a gaggle of freaks.

Last and final call
Grab some empathy
Stuff it down your bra
Proceed to boarding.