Priorties
When wood meets metal
It’s almost like a battle
Between nature and man
To be honest, I am not a fan
Oh well! Nothing can be done about that
Do you think I look fat?
Hour 20: On a Wire
On a Wire
Before the telegraph
Strung wires on poles
From coast to coast
Where did birds gather
In gossipy groups
Sharing the news of the day?
They cannot bask in the sun
On branches heavy with leaves
Nor gather in such groups
Where sprigs and twigs
Interrupt the flow
And nothing on the prairie
Proffered such a perch
As we advance with satellites
And wireless technology
Will the birds be sad
To see the neighborhood go?
revival
Permeated with sin
Our souls can be revived
Only if you believe
Natural Selection
Dad wonders if all this
banding of birds and
tagging of ears
creates selection pressure in favor of
jewelry
But with microbeads
The Great Garbage Patch
Spinning in the Pacific
And asphalt to go by,
It won’t be good
hummingbird
sitting on the porch
the hummingbird came right up to me
in my red sweatshirt
seeming to look me right in the eye
or the breastbone, as the case may be
long narrow beak and whizzing wings
suddenly, I am the hunted and you are the hunter
until I remember
that I am sitting on the porch in my red sweatshirt
and you are a hummingbird;
I breathe again,
you fly away;
that was close
Pleas of a Magic Mushroom
Curious and delicious dreams I delivered
Lick me, bite me, eat me,
I’m yours
Bruised and worn
Tattered and Torn
Discarded with ease
Like a fragrant French cheese
Come back, Alice, come back!
Longing for your touch, I wait
Earth to earth, spore to spore
Naked and shivering on the forest floor
Forget me not!
Ocean
The first time I
met you I drowned
in the blue of your eyes, in
the ocean of their blue. The
smile you flashed me set fire
to my soul. My desire of
your heart lies in having
the joy of loving you,
of holding your hand, I
will die in the depths of your blue ocean, my spirit impassioned, your name
on my heart eternally burned.
* Based on the line “I drowned in the fire of having you, I burned,” from the poem “Antique,” by Robert Pinsky
#20 Time Out
Time out
I need this
Please
Put me in time out
I will sit quietly
enjoy the time
without noise
to disturb
peace in my world