I would

I would not trust a wolverine
no matter how he loved me;
I would trust a wolverine
to tear my throat at his whim.

I would not trust a seller
who loved me too much;
I would trust a seller
to know what he wanted.

I would not trust booze
to solve what ails me:
I would trust booze
to cause and cauterize my wounds.

I would not trust a doctor
to know my suffering;
I would trust a doctor
to know my category.

I would not trust snow
to stay in summer;
I would trust snowflakes
to melt into the sky.

I would not trust a politician
to keep a promise;
I would trust a promise
to keep disappearing magically.

I would not trust lightning
to disobey all laws;
I would trust lightning
to be primal and majestic.

I would trust you
to know who this:
no matter what, trust this:
I am I and so are you.

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a sea of projects

Past a certain age
it is hellish convenient
to inconvenience oneself
with physical complaints
such as

I can’t lift a sheet
of plywood over my head
so how can I repair the ceiling?

I can’t write my name legibly
so how can I draw
a straight line and cut the plywood?

This phenomenon
more properly is known as
“(There’s a hole in the bucket)
dear Lisa” syndrome—
immortalized by Harry Belafonte
when he was a young stud
(and so was I)
able to do anything.

Makes taking arms
against a sea of projects
in an empty old nest
much less attractive
than singing silly songs
or just being a young stud
able to do anything.

Posted in aging, lotus eaters, Poetry, serial | Tagged , | Leave a comment

sno blo problo

Hey Jo
my sno blo
she no go
gots problo

Hi Cy
call the guy
he kno why
‘sno go bye

Hi guy
blo no fly
don’ kno why
yo gon try?

Sno blo stix
no can fix
gots no trix
‘ats a mix

So Joe
winds go blo
sno go yo
me go no

Posted in Boppin', experiment, lotus eaters, Poetry, serial | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment