Bio: Poetry

Lonely Star

In this thick galaxy of lights
find me
the star that flickers
and almost implodes, monthly
chiefly to interest the scientists watching
as I have no orbiting planets,
or comets, or meteors
to keep me company, in this lonely space
so I encourage companions, as I can.


Buzzing by,
a fly circled my eye,
continuously, and methodically.
A flea joined in,
who showed some skin,
bumpingly, and grindingly.
Next came the bee,
who felt quite free,
to slowly hover by, too close to my eye.
To the flea, and the bee, and the fly -
I stayed stuck, or stung, or swatting -

Disappointed Peeping Tom

Through this window
of mine
that you
not of
I see you
and what you do
when you think
that no-one is looking
and I must admit
that after the long preparation
of the window's installation
your activities
are a fitting punishment
for my crime
since watching you
fold your laundry
into origami animals
and squeezing your own
orange juice
is not
the kind of perversion
I had in mind.

The Mouse's Roar

From the mouse's mouth,
came a sound of such force,
that the forest shook
for a month.
The sound had burst,
when pressure had built,
from a voice
too long held back.

The Roses

The roses grew
to the top of the trellis.
The sun, and the soil, and the rain
all claimed credit
for the roses' climb.
The public listened,
and nodded their heads agreeably.
No one considered the roses' contribution.
The roses wouldn't have grown
without the roses.

Little He and Little Her

His little hands
do pull the hair
too strongly
of her, whose curls
do bounce like springs
so aboingie, boingie
Her little hands
do clutch the throat
too strongly
of he, who likes
to pull on hair
so aboingie boingie

Nose Storm

The sudden shower
spat into the hanky.
Luckily, there was no lightning -

Leather Mountains

The wrinkles and ridges
of the thin mountains rise,
from the flat plain,
of the wide leather cushion.
Nothing will live there,
or love there,
but a human's rear,
totally out of proportion,
with the string of mountains.

Silly He and She

Very silly were she and he,
when they sang together,
under the tree.
"He, he," went she,
and he responded, "She, she."

Their giggling became so free,
that in a lusty, convulsing glee,
they shook each apple from the tree,
including two which momentarily,
knocked unconscious those carefree.

Memory Of Fear

The sword is high and light
so light, that it mixes with the air
as it balances on the tips of my fingers.
It fades into a sliver
of a line
so thin
that I only sense it
not by sight
but by sound
like sonar.
It expands briefly
enough to be seen
glimmering slenderly
as light dashes over it.
Silver flashes appear and disappear
like lightning without voltage or thunder.
Enough to remind
too insubstantial to harm.


The buttons on her dress
popped open.
The material from her dress
fell into threads.
It was a good thing
that she was at home,
and about ready
to take a shower.

Seeing by Reflection

I assess my own validity,
by how other people perceive me.
I look to their eyes to see,
what they reflect back to me.
I can't tell if what I see,
is through their eyes, or through me.

Too Much of a Good Thing

Transplanted from the forest floor,
to a terrarium by the door,
the mushrooms were lushly growing,
until the mold was overflowing.

Hula Hearts

Far away,
she did say,
he swayed,
and swayed,
for her,
in hula skirts,
and hula hoops,
in an attempt
to woo her.

From a deep, intense glance,
she sensed they had a chance,
at sharing a gentle dance.
She spun his hoops up to the sky,
and spun his skirts around his thigh.
Earnestly, they did kiss and nuzzle,
close, as two pieces of a puzzle,
while the hula hoops fell around them,
in colored circles surrounding them.

Repressed Until I Expire

When the frying pan,
was out of the fire,
the flames leapt higher and higher,
until the height,
of my pent up desire,
leapt up to the highest spire,
while I could but retire,
being a friar,
while the ashes consumed the fire.

Senseless Killing

My hands are limp,
my hands are damp,
from squishing ants
caught in the rain.
On a flat stone,
is a small stain,
from the slight strain,
of my pressing down on them.
In a crushing defeat,
I smushed their small feet.
Was this a triumph complete,
on Horror St.,
or a pain too sweet,
for me to meet,
without weeping
with the rain.

An Ode to the Trembling Ones

In the stars are shapes,
like those of people
that I know,
who light, and shake
like nerves in subspace.
So near, and so far,
I see them,
the trembling ones,
full of more light than most,
spurting it out,
like sparklers in the sky.

Night Night

As the day passes
slip, slip
under the horizon
dip, dip
we warmly embrace
hug, hug
on our porch, all safe and
snug, snug
The stars softly light
wink, wink
against the sky, black as
ink, ink
as crickets fiddle
strum, strum
a lullaby, that we
hum, hum

Cosmic Collage 2000