Raven
At the park, a loud beggar
like the queen of Bohemia—
raven at play.
Cheerful poems
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Too full, I went out
into the full land
and stayed to eat
a tired horse
not able to keep pace
with my fat.
New neighbor
Both my wife and I
have seen her gossiping
to her six silver spoons,
her past brought hot
and strange as a whore—
the story is true.
Lit
Gin this morning,
ice in the afternoon heat.
And there I saw a well
and prepared to row.
Right then
Cool morning.
Crystal-clear air carries
a whiff of sewage.
Indigo bunting,
yellow warbler trade songs –
same syllable count.
Chilly morning.
A chipmunk stops to scold
in a patch of sunlight.
One drums, the other yammers:
the pileateds agree
to disagree.
When the sun clears the top
of the tall maple
I’ll go get breakfast.
The good worker
Me and the office: one
wen.
A pasty.
A merry bed.
How the war ended
The war I mourn
died yesterday of spotted fever.
We sat late disputing
at the burial.
Slugabed
Morning is now my night.
I saw rest I never saw before,
the bed I call Nurse,
and I lease the room.
Glutton for punishment
This ice I eat
will see my belly grow
dangerous as
a great master,
exceeding every me.
Aphorism
The greatest art men make, they eat.
Budget traveller
We tell money
how to serve us without money:
on any given road,
several businesses and a bed.
Feast day
I put six spoons
of silver in my pocket
and looked for dinner
in the garden and on my plate
till a great butter-woman
filled our bellies
with horses and with dirt.
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