The Cat’s Gone

The Cat’s Gone

Our cat left town on Tuesday.

She packed her furry bags

with one meow and a hooray

she left on a journey apparently one way.

I guess the cat food wasn’t up to snuff

her disappearance told us she’d had enough.

I hope she finds the home of her choosing,

tells her new employees of her need for using

humans for just a spell until the food gets dry

and her fur balls become an obstacle to her affection.

I Kissed A Man

I Kissed A Man

I kissed my son as he laid suffering

tubes hissing like so many snakes

poised to take his life and breath away.

I stood helpless to help, impotent chief.

A grown man, my son, but a child to me

blonde blue eyed and sad.  I cried.

What else could I do?  Hero deadbeat dad,

the unclean carnival barker is guilty.

Yes, I kissed a man, a man built by me.

You can do that you know,

kiss your son, your daughter,

your Aunt Jessie and Uncle Conrad.

Will the cops put a bullet in your head

for such racy behavior?  Will they?

Cuff and drag you into newspaper headlines?

I kissed a man.

Full Moon

Full Moon

How obsessed this moon bent so

on exposing raw nakedness of night

disrobing nightshirts off each tree and shrub

searing holes through drawn curtains

such rude discovery

of my nudity how pale the voyeur

seeking keyholes in every cloud

respecting none oh silent rapist

goes unscathed until sliced into a quarter

until sliced into a new.

Trail of Tears

 

Everything I once knew to be true

now drowns in that great fog

we call our mind, that great gig

inside our head, the gray dog of thought.

I have found it’s never too late

to stand beneath a tree and give thanks

for dreams left behind by the holy Chippewas,

Dakotas, Chickasaws, and Shoshoni.

They were the founders of joy in setting suns,

rising moons, and dry tears of the lonely wolf.

I knelt before the Great Oak and began to cry.

My brave ancestors bloodied and bruised

began a long trek west urged on by the white man’s whip.

We buy candied apples and cotton candy to celebrate

the very day Running Moon and Gray Cloud took their last gulp of freedom.

Many died on the trail of tears.

We laugh and buy tickets for canoe trips.

 

Chambers

Chambers

The chambers of my attic
toys are stored and books
too complicated to remember
scattered by winds of change.

There chambers for hiding
faded roses of my life
in boxes sealed with dust
Pandora will never see them.

And in a dead quiet place
cherished memories wait
I spend my time sifting
for memories of you. Chambers

The chambers of my attic
toys are stored and books
too complicated to remember
scattered by winds of change.

There chambers for hiding
faded photographs
in boxes sealed with dust
Pandora will never see them.

And in a dead quiet place
cherished memories wait
I spend my time there sifting
for memories of you.

Insanity in a Nutshell

 

Insanity in a Nutshell

Drape a flag and call it a day’s work

say a few words and hop on your foot

for Jesus and his friend the holy ghost,

Uncle Sam rewards us

with a two hundred dollar grave marker

a reward they say for killing and dying.

Post Traumatic Stress they say

will get you through the day

with a gummy bear

and claws of chocolate Easter bunnies

with just a hint of Thorazine.

Innocence is today’s cartoon,

tomorrow’s loss of life.

Somebody’s god must be real

He’s gone fishing I guess,

no time today to cure our nightmares.