Category Archives: Poetry

The Daily Dose – 11/22/06

Telescope

Do you ever look over your shoulder
at golden yesterdays
filled with acid regret?
I once took the nickel tour
walked familiar paths
but as a ghost of yesterday,
an inkling of the future;
nobody knew my name.
I glanced at myself,
hurrying past, busy to the next hoop,
through the long ground glass,
quarter-hungry,
perched on a dizzying high rail,
and the view was magnificent.

The Daily Dose – 11/21/06

A Love Poem

How do I tell you,
my love,
what you mean
what you are to me?
Do I dust off an old saw,
reset the teeth
in a bid to make a rusty blade bite;
roses, sunset, dew
any of these are
fine. Nice, even.
Run from the room
fingers shaping elf on forehead.
Or do I get all new-edge with it?
It’s like, you see,
my heart’s all, you know,
you know?
Then there’s the avant-natural-realist-expressionary
vision of you,
my sweet avocado,
my juicy garden slug,
what slimy guacamole you make.
In the end, though,
you are for me
what I hope, strive
to be for you.

New poems posted

I’ve posted a couple poems this morning.

My question for you is this: Do you prefer to see my non-bloggy writing posted outside the normal blog stream (the way I’m doing it now), or should I just stick it in the middle of the flow (yeah, more like an trickle…) of my normal blog posts?

Oh, Blogger, How do I Loathe Thee

Blogger, you are a twisted crutch
That laughs cruelly as I stumble
Over your bloated leg,
So hard and unfeeling.

Your home, Blogger, if I may be so kind
Is refuge in time of un-need
For falsity and posturing;
So few pearls, Blogger, so few.

You say My will be done
As long as it conforms
To the EULA I gleefully clicked
So many dark months ago.

But no more, Blogger,
You who are unaccepting of my trackbacks,
Who will not tell my friends what I’ve created,
I need you no longer.

I heap scorn upon thee, Blogger,
Not that you care,
For you have other lovers, other slaves;
So many thousands.

Dear dark Blogger,
I, too, have found another lover, and
I have spurned you in my heart of hearts,
Old friend, deepest enemy.

And Mars

Went to let the dog out. Damn iritable-eared, floppsie-headed dog.

Mars sits there, in the sky, high up, pulsing all ruddy and imperial, sword at the ready, idly watching Orion chase some damn two-headed, six-toed something-or-other, chuckling in a chisel-jawed, highly competent sort of way.