Monthly Archives: April 2019


The water swamped

The bucket into the dark depths

Of evening time.

No one came to help

The time passed,

The trees withered

From root rot

No leaves grew

No birds dared roost.

The rain fell,

The floods carried

It all away–

The old people forgot the swamp

Then they died

And the living wore

Innocent faces without smiles.

So it goes…

The Boat Leaked, So It Goes…

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Could I hear that again?

Where we all start to sing,

For reasons not certain

Our voices combine in love

And hate leaves chalky dust

On fields where soldiers died.

I’d say then we’ve learned

How the schools would empty

And children gain freedom & long lives.

Joyce Carol Oates
A Genuine Miracle

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In Common

With not much

At all…


You know me.

Does the scenery

Un-affect me or

Does it sing a song,

I go in quest of

Losing my way

Into details

Not till this day


Me, not cheerleader,

Describe as the Self…

Baggage and all.

Forgive me, I am flawed for life.

More than Long Lost Fiction

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That Last Box

Like Zeno’s Paradox

Of ever approaching

Half again, half again…

Some moment embraced

A signal of finished–

But by then the mind

Has lost cognition

And the world

Of cardboard

In its urine stained

Reality consumes


And an hysterical

Cosmic giggle–

Erupts from the moving I am.

Zeno’s Paradox Ready for Eternal Launch.

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Just Change It–


The locks…

That serious?

Yes. Drastic.

No admittance.

Read my lips.

You’re tough.

I’m sick of trouble.


Locks. Moats. Police.


Yes. Isn’t it!

Get moving, eh?

Like yesterday.

I’m in gear.

Stay that way!

J. C. O. (all is well)

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Sodden Lawn

Where the push mower

Tries to hide in arbor vitae

From rain and toddlers.

Loosed on this quiet morning,

But I am old like brittle wood,

A reed whose flute holes

Utter high pitched falsettos

Lacking strength & authority.

Life goes on without me–

For this I am relieved–


I can smile at youth

And find my airy place

Like a bird unnoticed

Crying from the cheap seats.

Bird Crying from the Cheap Seats!

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What morning was it?

When I made that promise

To keep loyalty as a cross,

To bear across the years

When horror and boredom

Were the bread fruit

Of our desert island?

Was it illusion on fire

With hunger and thirst

Or was it simply me

And all my wiles

As celebrations of a life

Imagined long ago?

Far away in a land of plenty

Where oaths were kept easily

Under folded hands

On a belly well-filled?

Far Away In A Land of Plenty

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