Posts for June 17, 2019 (page 7)

Category
Poem

At Billy Collins’ favorite timt to write

At Billy Collins’ favorite time to write

The dove on the bare
electric wire is silent,
attentive, stoic, unafraid
or she would not have stayed

perched alone there
where the hawk, confident,
hunting from her perch, made
invisible, might trade

a life
for death
in one
silent

f
e
l
l

swoop.


Category
Poem

love

if you
truly
love something
don’t
let it go.
try, instead,
to let it show.

or else
that thing
will
leave.


Category
Poem

Once a Teacher

Former students everywhere–
my librarian, my landscaper, my accountant.
How old can I be?


Category
Poem

Mercator

Brittle map—
unfamiliar names
scrawled legend
color bled compass
tattered corners
seeking wind.  

Beyond serpents & charts
lies a paradise—
or desert, or ruins,
or a mistaken ghost of Hope
skirting like a cloud before the sun, tinged red with embarrassment.  

Reach for the rails
of water’s fear cage.


Category
Poem

untitled

In a strange city over coffee

I ask why we’re here.

My friend pulls a bible from her purse.

 

When I asked my question,

I just meant that CMA weekend is not

the best time for a trip

to Nashville.

 

I am warned of her fears

about my salvation.

I’m not in gods good graces.

I imagine hell is

a humid CMA weekend

in Nashville.

 

I imagine hell

is full of queer folks

forced to wear baggy gym shorts

and sweating in the summer heat.

It’s only slightly raining;

a drizzle, not a downpour.

 

We watch drag queens

mediocre performances

to Karaoke country music.

In hell they only play

the shitty country music.

Heaven has the rights

to the album with “Redneck Woman.”

Word is… God is not lending it out

anytime soon.

 

On an intercom we are told

a medium place has been made

as an exception for:

Lady Gaga, RuPaul, Elton John, and Ellen.

They will not be joining us.

 

I pray for my own salvation,

or at least gym shorts

that show off our

honkey tonk badonkey donks.


Category
Poem

untitled

I dreamt of someone new
last night. 
How sweet it is to welcome a
gentle love, 
rather than an 
explosive one


Category
Poem

You’re So Vain

You’re So Vain

The weather is absolutely perfect,
because it snowed last night.
So this morning after breakfast,
we built a snowman.  The hardest 
part was rolling the huge bundles
for his lower body.  We couldn’t
do it by ourselves, so Dad helped
us.  Then he told me to go get
a scarf to wrap around
Mr. Snowman’s neck.
I remember Dad singing
along to an old song: a lady
sang about an “apricot” scarf.
So the choice was obvious!
He’s the coolest snowman
on the block.