garrison hear

three am
voices in the front yard

Okay, but I can’t be seen;
they have an alarm you know—
what are you going to do
about the alarm?

eleven pm

Bats babble in the
warm winter walls
some sentient squabble
centipede carcass


Wide wheeled wonder-woofers
pickup pounding percussive
babe bundle bounces by
eardrums eradicated

before dawn

Shots riccochette somewhere
crap! he saw me!
gotta get outa town!
let’s hide in here!

(Visited 14 times, 1 visits today)
FavoriteLoadingAdd to favorites

About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in lotus eaters, Mild-mannered opinion, Poetry, serial and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *