POEM: A World of Loathing

a cat abhors a vacuum
vacuums abhor tangled hair
tangled hair abhors a hairbrush
hairbrushes abhor Victorian Spanking Fetishists
Victorian Spanking Fetishists abhor Victorian prudism
prudism abhors immodesty
immodesty abhors modesty
modesty abhors whores
whores abhor cheapskates
cheapskates abhor expenses
expenses abhor ledgers
ledgers abhor ink pens
ink pens abhor writers
writers abhor synonyms
synonyms abhor antonyms
antonyms abhor continuums
and so on...

it's true that Eddie Rabbitt
loves a rainy night,
but who loves Eddie Rabbitt?

[the Coalition for 
Names with Double-Letters,
that's who!] 

Montreal Limerick

There was a hungry man from Montreal
who ate Poutine 'til he could only crawl
the snack in question
gave him indigestion,
and sealed his colon like a stonewall.

POEM: Hypnagogic Voices

I hear voices --
a cold burble of voices --

too dim and distant
to extract meaning,

too inexplicable not
to inject a rationale,

or a slate of reasons:
-madness
-conspiracy
-expectation
-the impulse 
toward void filling

minds despise quiet,
filling it with 
puzzling prattle,
and making any 
hash of sound
into cryptic natter,

until sleep descends

POEM: The Mind of Urban Cattle

What's a city
through the eyes
of a mid-city cow?

Growing up on a farm,
I can't say I ever questioned
how a cow perceived 
the pasture --
vast tracts of 
green, green grass
seemed like a natural habitat,
though I recognize 
that a philosophical cow 
might see nothing natural 
in its circumstance, either way.

What of the fast moving vehicles?
the horns?
the best grass fenced off?
the rush of humanity?
the bright, white lights?
the stink of human life?

Can they tune it all out
as well as they seem to?

Zen mind / cow mind?

I wonder?

Step Stone Senryū

a rock that looks like
the perfect stepping stone
is where danger lies

POEM: A Leak in the Sunny Side

Rounding through the pass,
I crossed from the cold
to the sunny side.

But while I transited
from the damp & mossy
to the dry grass
side of the mountain,
I carried the cold with me.

The ubiquitous sun 
would not warm me,
but rather I seemed
to suck the warmth 
out of the world --
as if I were a portal,
and the light landing
upon my skin was shunted
to some parallel universe.

I was the world's window
left open with the heater on,
and the temperature
differential pulled a steady
breeze in my direction,
to who knows where?

Hawk Kyōka

I watch the hawk
as it sits, watching me
It turns away first,
knowing I can't reach it
nor see it as it sees me

POEM: Fairy Tale Wisdom

We watch the naked emperor
like nothing is amiss,
and recoil upon sight of frogs
wise of what lies in a kiss.

We trust the familiar too much,
and the odd too little.
We love a beauty even when 
she's selfish or she's brittle.

There is a Jack for each giant,
and many clever cats,
and, sometimes, we cheat the man who
takes out all our rats.

The other foot will always fall,
even when blinded by hope.
Sometimes it pays to play dimwit,
but not be an outright dope.

Each tale tells us of ways to be
a better, kinder soul
in a world filled with all manner
of monster, fiend, and troll. 

POEM: Below the Stone Dome

The stone dome
bubbled from the jungle
stands stern
like a knob of nothing.

The green growth
that girds that whole hump
is living, like 
some hallowed habitat --

filled full 
of all forms of flora,
with big bugs, and
 all the creepy creatures.