Poems Home All 153 Poems Variously Arranged Latest Additions Most-Viewed Newest First One at a Time Some Notes The Texts Density Analysis Poetic Form Bitslice Rhyme Sculpted Meter Links Indexes Titles First Lines Topics Forms Allusions Parodies Rhythms Languages |
All the poems in the collection, in order from newest to oldest by date of completion. Each title links to the poem’s standalone page, where there is often more information.
Hear the ancient Kalevala,
Wise and ancient Kalevala, Reconstructed Kalevala From the 19th century, From the spirited dynamic Counterrevolutionary Year of 1849. Scholars traveled diligently Seeking fragments of the epic, Fragments of the Kalevala, Which they patched together neatly, Sewing it into a whole, Almost like it fit together, (Frankenstein could do no better) Almost like it fit together, Back in 1849. All is carefully authentic But the parts that were invented, Which I am about to fix. Let me go! I'm gonna fix it! Earthquack When the world was sky and water, Lacking any continent, Also lacking any island, Lacking any land at all, Down from heaven flew a duck, Gaudy noisy orange duck, Quacking like a firetruck, Aiming for a woman's knee (Possibly a little higher) As the duck so often does. Quack the first became the sun, All the light of all the truth. Quack the second was the moon, Changing periodically. Quack the third was solid earth: Finally a place to gather, Build the houses, clear the land, Dig and work the solid iron, Iron for our use and vengeance. This the truth I have discovered In my diligent researches, This the truth to lead the way this Counterrevolutionary Year of 2024. August 2024
When Barsoom invades the lower house
And Covfefe declines too far Then conflict will drive our planning And we will always bear the scar. It’s dawning on me that the age is hilarious The age is hilarious Hi-lar-i-ous Pre-car-i-ous February 2024
Yankee Doodle polish up
Your Yankee Doodle branding Stick some mortar on your board And call it understanding. February 2024
Not brains, not skill, not luck.
I called any god on high To find an excuse for this orange duck, Who is not just a stupid guy, But a dumbfuck dumb as a dumptruck Under the dumbstruck sky. August 2023
I must go up to the sky again, to the dark beyond the blue,
And all I ask is a worldship and a star to steer it to, And a million colonists or more, and a planet for the taking, And a crazy plot like a juggernaut that the author is half-baking. February 2023
freight train, ball game, seeing the final scene
cookie, hot tea, tenth anniversary a weird coffin girlfriend hiding here cheerless chosen and intent bird cage, ball game, reticent bride to gain rose ring, backswing, what is the prince’s name a weird lively girlfriend fighting here cheerful chosen and unsure then the 突き店 彗星店 星座店 タイヤ店 影絵店 妄想店 同性店 個性店 原罪店 sayonara endless looping, here is the key just a little stab to drop the girlfriend just a little way to seize her power (just a little J.A. Seazer power) so-o pseudo-sorry sorta pseudo-sorry sooooooorryyyyy January 2022
It was not Truth - I looked it up -
The oracles were dumb - It was no Lie - the Sky was pierced And Revelation came - It was not Knowledge - in my Ears The Consonance - resolved - Nor Intuition - fingertips Revolved in Nacre grooves. Still, it reflected like them all. The Figures on the screen Were ordered ranks of Theories From Clouds above - my own - As if the night were shaken, And shifted from its bed, And bent to seek a deeper Sea - It was the broad noon, made Of gathering and sorting out The fine dull grains of life - And fusing them to phosphors That flood Unseeing Sight - But most like Destiny - arrived Without a paw to hear - Or nose - or whisker - or a Thought - Above the miles of air. October 2021
Come to the overmanaged park and see
The long-forgotten ruleboard, and beyond The picnic tables scattered randomly Down the hillside to the duckweed pond. There take the yellow-labeled “Laurel Trail” Into the woods, and hear the selfish crow Above the traffic noise that shall not fail. Huh. Maybe there are laurels. Who would know? Pass garbage barrels and the dog poop station And find a beech with some undamaged bark Next to the path, and join the conversation: Carve the year as your eternal mark. March 2021
Sweet dreams and hollow fears
Who am I to set you free? I’ve learned some words and the ABC Everybody’s fallen for something Some of us live in confusion Some of us think they’re not confused Some of us want to include you Some of us want to be excused April 2020
Mary had a little lamb
As innocent as Amsterdam. Mary promised, “Ram or ma’am, Sheep are not the source of ham.” February 2020
The moving van devours, then, in a doze,
Digests, and no objection you propose Will move it to deliver half a chair Nor your prepayment bring back all your clothes. January 2020
Picture yourself by the moat of a castle
With tangerine dreams of a burger franchise. Something disturbs you, you point out distinctly, The worlds will collide if he tries. Media powers a book with your face, Sharing to take you away. Look out for the world with the funny surprise Or we’re done. Loosening the Sky with Defiance, Loosening the Sky with Defiance, Listening to Science’s Dial-tone. Oooooh... Picture yourself with a brain in a nation Where half the reporters tell half of the lies. Suddenly Seymour is seen at the turnstile Searching for Soviet spies. Loosening the Sky with Defiance, Loosening the Sky with Defiance, Looking on the Sciolist Die-down. Oooooh... Whooping from a Mushroom of Drylands, the Dutiful Mergansers of Violence are Questing for the Extra Disguises Ooooow.... December 2019
The Moon Camp
Green cheese is all my ploy, Green cheese my farthest flight. Green cheese is my artful goal, What but my wheel of green cheese. The Mars Camp Green cheese is your decoy, Green cheese in my despite. Green cheese is a lump of coal, Away with the word of green cheese. November 2019
“Keep, ancient lands,” we cry, “your foreign brains!"
Our secret ballots say, “Give me your daft, Your bumbling masters yearning for the reins, Reckless reframers always seeking graft, The hopeless with tempestuous campaigns. We lift our food stamps to the overdraft!” August 2019
When I look on the masters’ works,
I see what they’ve done, those crafty jerks. Then I turn back to my bits and bobs And plan how I can displace the slobs. April 2019
If you visit Washington, DC
You will find it kinda spacey. There’s just two parties and you must believe Their God’s almighty or you’d better leave! Perdition, perdition! You’re required to applaud, But tune in your ears and get red and blue running fraud. Watch the Hollywood budget surgeons Being cut down by insurgents. Paul’s gotta skim and Don’s gotta lie But not for long before they fry. Perdition, perdition! You can keep the greatest true faith, And then writhe in hell as a powerless wraith. February 2019
O Brexit deal, O Brexit deal,
I wonder if you were ever real. Your promises that never made A grain of sense are all betrayed. O Brexit deal, O Brexit deal, The story grows ever more surreal. December 2018
Erdogan!
President and Secretary Xi! How singular the Trump! Depraved new world That has such presidents! June 2018
Dove: It can’t be won!
Hawk: It could be, too! Weird: It might be three or four or more! Chiefs: What’s been done? And what to do? All: That’s the new Korean War! May 2018
Jack and Jill went down the hill
To “improve their cell reception.” Jack stayed up with his buttercup, A squeaky-clean conception. February 2017
I eat my peas with honey. I do it for a lark.
It makes my peas taste funny but it never jumps the sh— Shaving cream! Believe in the dream! Eat peas every day and they’ll make you turn green. February 2017
Squirming and squirming in the brightening glare,
The voters hear an executioner; They’re not sure who; the center is long gone; Extremism rides in like Genghis Khan; The best are unconvinced, and now the worst Say that they are on balance unconvicted. I think there’s something scary going on. I think there’s an election going on! Election! I have hardly said the word When an old cartoon composed by Thomas Nast Comes to my mind: A fat malignant vulture, Born wealthy and still thinking of itself, Is brooding its cash eggs, while all around it Details are indistinct. I must suppose That eight fair years of cautious governance Have cleared the corridors for capital, And what rich tough, his power come home to roost, Crouches over Washington like a storm? November 2016
The sea will roil
Like the crumble of foil That drips with the grease from your lunchin’ And the ship’s wise fools Will remind you of their rules While the whole wide world needs washin’. July 2016
She was buried when we first met,
Soon to be a corpse. I served her up with some jam, but I guess I used the wrong kind of forks Like a parvenu. Tangled up in blue. July 2016
Is this the launch that faced a thousand slips
And burned the bottomless budget of billi-ons? Dear Elon, make me a Martian with your ship. June 2016
If you’re crazy and you know it, fly to Mars.
If you’re crazy and you know it, fly to Mars. If you’re crazy and you know it, pile your money up and blow it on a ticket for a journey where you’ll die without a gurney since there aren’t any hospitals on Mars.
If you’re wealthy and you know it, fly to Mars. May 2016
The far night
caught in its bell jar a coming storm which then caught me: The first drops fell seconds apart to tap on my hair and shoulders and star the pavement. My slow day over and near home, I felt no hurry but smelled warm rain and watched the clouds coolly seeking the range to batter our vacant windows and roads. My hands fell loosely, out of my thoughts, when without a sound my left palm felt a drop. In a few seconds the following drop symmetrically struck my opposite palm and rang. January 2016
The American Mood, 2012
September 2015
The meaning of a word is like a needle
pointing to itself. The way is one and it lies all around. To pin it down we draw a circle for the universe and cut it out: Now do you understand? August 2015
North Factory: without good there could be no evil
Norm Al: these are the ending days Texas Teachers Union: I sorted the chaos that heaven reviled Norm Al: this is the end of days Texas Teachers Union: into folders to render it gentle and mild Norm Al: the world burns down in a final blaze Texas Teachers Union: I doled out the color codes, taming the wild Norm Al: overheated by solar rays Texas Teachers Union: and I filed and I filed and I filed North Factory: so it must be evil to be good sometimes September 2013
take me home
taxi ride to the address where I reside in a building with a driveway and a number on the side September 2013
As in the Iliad, Book 20, when
at last Achilles makes his way to fight the Trojans, blind Homer has him pause and shout a taunting speech at his opponent Aeneas, who then, nothing daunted, stretches the moment of suspense until it breaks, holding forth like some Demosthenes in an even longer speech where he accuses Achilles of dallying around with words when he should be thrusting hard-edged bronze: even so the election season carries on too long. October 2012
In Case of Republican Victory
At last the summer’s over and the earth returns to right,
With no more global warming in the clear and present fight Where the eagle feeds on liver and the liver never learns From views of icy clarity until the spring returns. September 2012
Not the Standard Model President
Higgledy piggledy
President Superstar Used to make pitches That swung for the fence. Now by political Supersymmetrical Law he is physically Bound to make sense. September 2012
Ich weiß nicht was soll es bedeuten
Daß ich blauäugig bin. Lügt mir der Spiegel an, oder Hats einen weiteren Sinn? September 2012
He wasn’t dumb. His intellect was sound
Enough to get him through his daily round. It’s just that he Thought he was pope. He said it happily And so often that they were alarmed And finally sent him to the funny farm. A good friend visited while he rehearsed Distraught complaints—in fact, he cursed: “Tarnation! What is with these guys? They say I’m crazy and I don’t know why.” “Yeah, well, that’s what people do. They have enough of Popes with one. You’re number two. And that is just what they can’t bear. Listen, you should be aware: The smart keep mum.” The crazy man went still as if in thought, And his good friend went quietly on out. And see, it wasn’t even two whole weeks Before they met each other on the street. “Hey,” called his friend, “Now what’s the scoop? I guess you had to give up being pope?” He slyly answered, “Oh, I get it. You sure are a nosy one! I know exactly how it works. We all have our little quirks But you’re crazy to admit it. The wise keep mum.” July 2012
They tucked in drinks and hashed it out,
That monkey business, see? That Darwin stuff, what an affront To human dignity! They drank a bunch of tankards down, They stumbled out the doors, They grunted and scratched and made it home Scrabbling on all fours. April 2012
Here in my hair the sun of Venice toils
to make its gold: Immortal alchemy’s illustrious issue. And my eyebrows, see how they, arched like bridges, silently carry you past the danger of my coiled eyes, which have covertly ratified traffic with the canals, so that the tide rises and falls and changes there. To slide a glance my way is to detest my small dog, because my hand, untouched by flames, invulnerable, glittering, is said to rest in absent moments on his head. And youths who bear the hopes of ancient names taste the poison of my lips and fall. March 2012
“There—from the mountain! there—in the wood!
We saw it ourselves • he speaks with the dead And changes water to wine.” Oh if you could hear how I laugh in the night: My hour has struck • my grain is piled high. The fish come to me to be taken. The wise and the foolish—the people run mad • The trees are uprooted • the fields laid flat • Make way for the Savior’s procession! There’s no work of heaven I do not produce. It’s off by a hair’s breadth, but you are all fooled. Your senses have been overmastered. In return for what’s rare and what’s hard I create The simple • a semblance of gold from the clay • Of the tang and the juice and the perfume. And the art the great prophet did not dare to touch: Without clearing or planting or building, to suck Vitality stored over seasons. The Prince of Vermin now tightens his grasp • He is missing no treasure • he misses no chance • To hell with the rest of the rebels! Caught up in the devilish fake, you rejoice • You squander the fruits of your ancestors’ toil And only at last do you suffer. Your tongues will hang down as the water trough dries • You’ll wander bewildered like sheep through the fires .. And the terrible blast of the trumpet. March 2012
How doth the little neutron bomb
Improve its fission yield, And pour the waters of its heart Across the killing field. How brilliantly it scores the sky, How neatly fells the thrush, As if it heard our hopelessness And tried to beat the rush. February 2012
This Thought is not Conclusion -
A Paragraph beyond - Step Lightly - to the threshhold - And out, and easy on - February 2012
In the world’s first night the earth lay down.
In the first light it stood again. Now smoke strides daily above the town And if a spark strikes, then Take it as you must And in a gust of days Raise a blaze of dust To a dusty day. December 2011
The horror crawls in toddlers’ scrawls
And oozes through the pores of lovers; The dark rot bleeds into desperate needs That Alzheimer’s undiscovers. Roll, thunder, roll, boom like the heartstrings failing, And mumble, mortals, mumble, quailing, quailing, quailing. December 2011
tell a tale of ten-pins
catcher in the rye four and twenty sirens singing to the sky when the song is over the sky begins to fall and down comes chicken little vigilance and all January 2011
I used to have a handsome fatherland.
The oaks were tall and violets gently nodded in the breeze. A dream was all. He kissed me in German, spoke to me in German (I still recall the joyous sound); “I love you” were his words. A dream was all. August 2010
O faring moon, O sun, O star,
O nightrise lightfall turn of dark O gods from outside the world if any are open a door so we can see beyond the glare of what is near. August 2010
My darling, we were children,
two happy little kids. We snuck into the henhouse and crawled in the straw and hid. We imitated roosters, and if anyone came through— “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” They thought that they’d heard a rooster crow. We took some farmyard boxes and wallpapered them inside and lived as a happy couple in our elegant abode. The old cat from the neighbors’ would often come for tea. We gave her bows and curtseys and a compliment or three. We inquired how she was doing with sympathy and tact, and since then we’ve said the same to many another old cat. Often we sat and talked as if we were wise with age and complained that it all was better back in the good old days, That love and trust and faith had vanished everywhere, and coffee was so expensive, and money oh so rare! The children’s games are over, and everything comes to dust, money, the days, the planet, and faith and love and trust. July 2010
I stand on a balcony high in the tower
in a whirlwind of clamoring starlings and, like a maenad, allow the storm to root in my tossing hair. You wild compatriot, you big show-off, I want to fiercely embrace you and, sinew to sinew, two steps from the edge, to wrestle for life or death! And far below at the beach, the waves, as briskly as mastiffs at play, crash and hiss as they gambol around and flecks of the bright foam leap. Oh I wish I could dive in straightaway, right in the boisterous pack, and hunt in the depths of the coral jungle that jovial quarry the walrus! And above me I see a pennant blowing, as brave as the king’s own standard, and I see the keel shift up and down from here in my airy lookout. Oh, I want to embark on a fighting ship and seize the wheel in my hands and with a swoosh like a flying gull to skim by the surging reef. If I were a hunter in open fields, or even a bit of a soldier, if all else denied I were only a man then that is how God would advise me. Instead I must sit, like a good little girl, so delicate and clear, and may only secretly loosen my hair to let it run free in the wind! July 2010
When Cupertino smites the air,
office workers leave their desks and crowd into the Apple Store to grasp in lust the latest phone, though not one knowledge worker asks how is the obvious well done? February 2010
Then...
In the beginning was the word That told us everything we know, And nothing else can be inferred. We know because it told us so. ... And Now Man explains. God disdains. No one else has any brains. August 2009
So wie Wolken, weiß und weltumfassend,
sahen sich einst die Europäer an. Nunmehr scheint die Sache fies und fließend, und wer noch dran glaubt, heißt Republican. June 2009
The aim and the error form one word
that gathers its storm clouds in and speaks when the worm god in the apple meets the stone god in the bird. April 2009
Back when Barbary waived the rules,
Particularly the rule on slaves, At least we knew where to find the fools, Because Mercator ruled the waves. Today the fools are at home somewhere Rolling somebody else’s dice, Or leaning back in an office chair And calculating the lowest price. April 2009
The earth was bashed together from rocks,
The bunnies of dead stars’ dust, stark raving sparks Thrown when the burning universe broke. Time Writes in pencil and crosses out in ink. In my garden, I pull the maples That come each spring. I imagine your narrow heel Printing an old message by the pile. I learned That fire spreads to the smallest scrap of fuel. April 2008
The ear—the plug—the fate of a churning nation—
the roar of jets—the murmur of indignation— the editor of Acceptable Condemnation issues a book of hierarchy and stations. April 2008
Summer is in the eye of the
storm of the iris of the garden of the flight of the whirling maple. April 2008
What fun it is to mold your craft
to an artificial constraint! Artful and crafty is what it is, and art is what it ain’t. January 2008
My heart aches, and the blackest hellfire fiend
Rings my ears as if Titans had ball-peened My brain for all eternity, or longer, Unless there’s a way to say it even stronger. January 2008
Confusion is only natural,
although counterfactual, thanks to your long experience of comprehensive ignorance. January 2008
In ’79, in Davis, California,
I walked at evening twilight past the school on Anderson, thoughtful, isolated by uninterpretable traffic noise, when another person’s life brushed past mine. The rush of cars receded like a wave. Distracted from myself, I paused as a girl passed by on a bicycle, crying. The air held still for a long, articulate moment until the traffic resumed. January 2008
I saw a goth girl on the train one night
who wore a steel ring in her lower lip and carried a sharp purse with stark white stripes. She fixed her makeup using a pink Hello Kitty compact. January 2008
Odysseus dodged the sirens. He dared not risk
Himself; instead he roped an unregarded Crewman to the mast. Later, caution Seemed to have been wise. As the sailors dug The softened beeswax from their ears, the victim Wept for the loss of the honey from his own, Then pressed his eyes to try, to try, to try. He, Homer, Thought only how to hear the song again. December 2007
Busy young fool, unruly Donne,
How dost thou thus The vaporous Condense to a strange thought and a strange pun? December 2007
The world is charged with obstruction of justice.
We must stand trial. Though shaken as shocked quartz We sing out for sentencing: Let Clio’s courts Judge we are still unjust as Augustus. Generations have conned, and glommed, and scammed, And all are slimed with lies, grim, grimed with lies That tell tall tales and sell worn wares; our eyes Are hooded, nor can hearts hope, being damned. Yes, to all this our nature is ever bent. Now, self-captured, we face the difficult Process of law: We must self-represent, Self-prosecute, self-judge, and bear result Of guilt: The Inner Child’s imprisonment Will free chid felons to act—at last!—adult. November 2007
Sodium light is the ship’s sky,
Mercury light its green thumb. Our former address, the blue eye, Blinks in the light of the old sun But shelters her gaze from no one. November 2007
I pulled on a loose thread of history
And unraveled a seam that I hadn’t seen. How did it happen? I can’t explain. History’s disparate parts disarrayed And I dropped the theoretical thread. Not kinder, not gentler, not on the mend— Now history runs to a ragged October 2007
tiled like a bathroom
tiered like a wedding cake tired like me going down one tube and then another October 2007
If ever the ships come to break our clan
And carry you away, Remember your first days: You had to learn The strength in gales, The long work carved from the long sky in rain. Remember the storm season when your mind Grasped the words for how We kept tight the new ice knives, and how we turned Their shavings out. We held such words that the whole clan is bound. Cut from your brain, cut with sharpened ice The hours you wept for home Or threatened to call lightning down from space. If you must go, Teach Earth truly the two worlds are close. September 2007
Dear terrifying terrorists
Who tear our liberty, The ship of state Secures the gate. Do you have ID? Freedom is biometric. Americans stand tall With iris tints And fingerprints And DNA for all. Cameras, cameras everywhere Nor any thought to think. It makes a fella Smooth an’ mella. Hick! Anotha drink! I know more than her mother About my darling Kimmy. With infrared I see her bed And the winsome Kimmy shimmy. We map the social network To find the central spider. If you call Iran Or Afghanistan, We call you an insider. No keyword goes unnoticed. You used the words “expire” And “magazine”. What does it mean? When do you open fire? Our database is Biblical: Sinners change to pillars Of rectitude. We must conclude The saintly are the killers. (That’s not us, is it?) We collate your drivers license With your tax return. Discrepancies? Wait here, please, And burn, burn, burn. We follow procedure carefully. We’re honest, never fear. Secret warrants Flow in torrents— Shh! You didn’t hear! If you make us mad, we’ll show you The picture of perdition. A furtive flight Will draw by night An extraordinary rendition. From a list of fancied furies Invented by committees, With random rules The ship of fools Defends our tender cities As gallantly as Procrustes And as stupidly as is clever. You’re in a cell Or off to hell Or safe and sound forever. (Some exceptions may apply.) August 2007
Speak now, or forever hold your gall,
Squirming down within, Sun-hot and as busy as a mall, Fervent as a sin, Steadfast as the bullet-spattered wall Outside your fortress keep Where your enemies are put beyond recall. When you hear the beep Speak now or forever hold your call. August 2007
Symmetry: She is the lovely ideal
I’ll marry and live with until I die. I’ll always respect her, never lie, And if we fight I will appeal For cool fair words together, Not storms of fierce cold weather When she tells her ugly lie And loses almost all her appeal So disrespectfully. How can I deal? Symmetry wants me to suffer and die. August 2007
Red-winged blackbirds are all we know
On earth and all that we need to know. Forget the government and its taxes. All you need to know On earth is that earth is run by people Who want you to pay for a greener lawn Or listen to birdsong tapes and forget All you need to know. July 2007
The rumpled sun wakes up to survey the earth,
glaring down the patternless stars. I stretch and find myself observed by a broken statue, the goddess Euterpe, once the centerpiece of this formal garden, now the muse of flowers and vines run free. The garden is still beautiful in its way, but where is the music? The sun’s blank gaze insists there is no way back: Change was growth. I answer that change outlasts, invents, forgets, replaces, remeasures, circles and breaks from its bounds, while the raveled smoke of human endeavor waits to turn the sunset glorious. In the dark, I will watch as, rising, the constellations pattern the fields. July 2007
A tiny snack can justify
Heaping plates of dessert. But why? Here is the crucial fact: Cake is the opposite of pie, And opposites attract. July 2007
A delicate rhythm befits the informal age.
We thin our iambs with numerous anapests. No strong stresses must taint the ironic tone. Oh, and I almost forgot—we write no end- stopped lines, not without special dis- pensation. Also—what the hell, forget it! Everyone thinks it’s free verse anyhow. June 2007
We are neoformalists,
Totally monotonous. We read a book on how to scan In the prehistoric time, Programmed our computers and Checked the answers line by line. We are so creative, man. You know because we used a rhyme. Totally monotonous, We are neoformalists. June 2007
To me there is only one day.
The days you think are separate Fold up for me like a map. The light shines through, and all The tiny roads and symbols come together. My day is older than I am, Because to me there is only one day, Just as there is only one poem. June 2007
Who, if I cried warning, would hear me among the angelic
drivers? Even supposing one should suddenly take it to heart, I would perish under his vulcanized radials. For the green is nothing but the onset of terror, which we walk through calmly only until it thoughtlessly turns to destroy us. Every single intersection is terrible. June 2007
Beauty has teeth, teeth beauty; farewell, wits,
That’s all you know as you are torn to bits. March 2007
When the forts of folly fall,
Will the victors comprehend How you sought to meet your end: To scale or to defend the wall, Or scale and then defend? February 2007
don’t be a slave
in labor’s maw when you can work for Tatmadaw Myanmar Shave December 2006
Better safe than storied,
Better shade than glory, Better homes and gardens Until you get your pardons. November 2006
nothing depends
upon a red seal blaring phrases of high terror on the blue website September 2006
The U.N. has a resolution
Well, you know There’s a lot to talk about. While we’re practicing our elocution Well, you know I wonder how it’s turning out? But when you talk of troop deployments, Don’t you know that we can’t count that high? Don’t you know it’s gonna go All wrong? (Repeat for each Middle East crisis.) August 2006
Lady Liberty came to me last night,
wearing the red dress of grievances and earplugs for the scream of consciousness. “I went to see my friend from Rhodes,” she said, “Father of Homebodies. Now that I’ve fallen too, I’m really brazen! It was fun, I’m off to visit again.” And then she stumbled away, kicking the chains that clung around her ankles and holding her torch down low to see the way. July 2006
From the arc of the ankle
To the farther ear, From the grapes and the bunions To the grin of the last chevalier: Take a pull from the flagon Of all future revelry; In the armor of spirits May you find meaningless cheer. April 2006
Walk off, walk off, Voltaire, Rousseau,
Walk off, walk off, the game is lost. You can still publish sharp cartoons, But not deny the Holocaust. February 2006
Lunch comes in at the mouth,
And weight goes onto the thighs, And all we learned in our youth Is hatred of exercise. I lift my fork to my mouth, While reaching for the fries. December 2005
The Internet loads mysterious codes
Its wonders to perform; It plants the kernel with its stacks, And seeds ideas in dorms. Blind believers, ants with pants, We build more than we planned; The network is its own compiler, That we can’t understand. December 2005
Split the hair - when you face the music -
Blow after blow - will roll aside - Violence dealt to the batted belfry Spent on your hair and not your hide. Loose the flood - like a snake oil seller - Gush after gush, and swear it’s true - Cro-Magnon creditors! Credulous cretins! You’ll escape yet from the peer review. August 2005
The placing of blame is a difficult matter.
It isn’t just one of your government games. You may at first think I’m a nabob of natter When I tell you a wrong must have three different blames. First of all, there’s the blame that we sell to the papers, Like “We need more budget,” or “Here are the facts:” “It was one of the previous president’s capers,” Or “It will secure us from terrorist acts.” But I tell you a wrong must have inner defenses In case of a breach of the Ligne Maginot, Else how can the bureaucrats keep up pretenses, Or the leaders tell whether to hunker or go? Blames of this type must be tightly constructed, Dense with uncheckable inside details, Such as “New personnel who were not yet instructed Bypassed the rules and deleted e-mails.” But above and beyond there’s still one blame left over, A blame as well hid as the Fountain of Youth, A blame that no human research can discover, Or at least we hope not, because it’s the truth. June 2005
Just slept when I awoke.
Just let the world go on. Just stirred to face the breakfast and commuting, Then hit the snooze Forgetting self-esteem While traffic noises merge into my dream. Next time, to wake. Next time, like John Glenn, To slowly roll in space and Hit the snooze again. March 2005
When we first met I saw a blinding flash.
The hot wind made me glad to be alive. I hardly felt old hopes and houses tumbling in the crash. I’ll always love U-235. You don’t care that I am going bald. When I collapse you stay till I revive. You hold me close while everybody else remains appalled. I’ll always love U-235. March 2005
Be not the first by whom the new is tried:
A. Wait until it’s fully cut-and-dried. B. Hold off till you’re sure that no one died. C. But claim you were and write the field guide. D. We can all try at once and not collide. February 2005
Some say the world will end in trash,
Some say in spam. From what I’ve seen of spending cash, I think I have to favor trash. But if there is a traffic jam As alternate demises clash, Then which one will claim the blame, Piles of junk or piles of scam? It’s all the same. February 2005
Ours is not to reason why.
No one does that any more. Ours is but to bomb from high Till everybody else is poor. October 2004
I hope you did not miss the beautiful moon.
Let heaven’s clouds stand in for your tears. The moon is the same to all times and all people, only our thoughts are different. Think this: The unchanging moon symbolizes change. Coal black and bone white, the moon can mean climate stability, fertile ocean tides, one small step to magnificent desolation, night and the rime of silver light at night, lunacy, when the mind is drawn astray, and love and joining what is far apart. Let heaven’s clouds stand in for your tears, brush your eyes and look back at the shining monument of stone, the cat’s-eye moon. July 2004
If I had my druthers, I would live
Snug in an airtight house with picture windows High on the central peak of Herschel crater, Mimas, Saturn, and lose my Friday nights Staring in fascination at the rings. Well, not this year. But while I’m getting ready I use my Friday evenings writing mail To dear, dear friends who live too far away. June 2004
My candle burns in the middle.
It ain’t no taradiddle. But ah my fit and oh my fiddle I fwowed up a widdle. January 2004
Itsy, Bitsy, Tiny and Few,
We have a nuclear weapon or two. Itsy, Bitsy, Tiny and Free, If you are cowed you’ll listen to me. What do you get when you conquer the Earth? Way too much cash and a sense of self-worth. How do you act when you’re such a fat cat? Who do you think’s at fault for that? Always the United States. Itsy, Bitsy, Tiny and Bomb, Give us the cash and you can stay calm. You will starve in poverty too Just like Itsy, Bitsy, Teeny, Tiny and Few. December 2003
The boy flew off the burning deck.
He fell to Earth I know not whether. But everywhere that Mary went Were little bits of leather. August 2003
Dance, dance, Jesus dance
The macarena. It’s a miracle, It’s a no-braina. Pipe a merry tune, Pied or crucified, And lead believers to The hillside. June 2003
le xuncutcpi su’o slaka
fo le spidja canai pleji .i gauku fi le tego’i cmene lei rijno ze’u vreji April 2003
Or, Better Loud Noises in the Night than Secret Police
Over the hills and over,
Under the darkest sky, I fly in a batwing bomber, And nobody asks me why. To George it is for the voters. To the colonel it’s for the dead. To me it’s so that my daughter Can grow up free of dread. There are the flames of Baghdad, Aligned with the target grids. I know as we kill the terror We terrify the kids. March 2003
The age of opportunity,
When the net was paved with gold, When anything went and fortunes were spent As favored by the bold, Is past, and all that still remains In the years-long bubble burst Is no champagne, and real pain, And a lot of stuff that works. January 2003
Roses are rose and violets are violet,
But freedom’s expensive and violence inviolate. December 2002
For all the bird’s misgiving,
From all the beaux esprits, We thank on this Thanksgiving The heavenly emcee That turkeys spring eternal, That corn grows from the kernel, That death, the gate nocturnal, Locks with a vernal key. November 2002
Bring me my prose of turning cold.
Bring me my narrowing of ire. Bring me my beer, O crowds unpolled. Bring my extinguisher of fire! October 2002
Who and when, where and why,
What does the pain of life imply? Almost as blue as God’s blue eye, Aim your lasers at the sky, And with a ringing battle cry Sharpen the vision of the big old guy. Me oh me, my oh my, That should straighten out Captain Bligh; He’ll be as soft as a Windsor tie, And give us candy and rhubarb pie. August 2002
Humpty Dumpty lies in state
Like a glycerin-shiny fashion plate, And all the King’s loyally breakfasting men Will never photograph food again. July 2002
Hang your head up on the wall:
Summer goes before a fall. All that growth is lush as Eden, And you’re packing up for Sweden To collect your Nobel Prize... When they recognize your lies. Tripping goes before a fall: No one’s always on the ball. March 2002
The sink is full tonight.
The fridge is calm; the dust lies gray Along the shelves; out the French doors the light Gleams off the slugs; the pile of bills to pay Falls over sideways onto the sleeping cat. I’m getting out Of here! The television seems To offer visions of defending teams, So curious, inscrutable, and true, And yet has neither maids, nor aides, nor brooms, Nor any other friend to ease my brain; So I am fleeing on a sparkling plane Swept for shoes, with unarmed luggage in flight, Which indigent airlines crash by night. February 2002
I set the goals that make the whole world run.
I keep a database on everyone. I change the future when I make the fads. I write the ads, I write the ads. January 2002
Oh say, can you see, by the light’s early dawn,
That daring young man on the flying dugong? There seldom is spurred a less probable bird Till Willie comes home from the war! November 2001
There’s one birthday that I’m pretty sure pretty much everyone will pretty much forget,
To their regret, And I don’t mean the day that brash lllama logged in, No, I mean the real birthday of the real Nash, comma, Ogden, Than whom no writer wrote less bashfully Or more Ogden Nashfully. August 2001
Put out your eyes as if they were a fire.
Put out your eyes as if they were the trash. Put out your eyes: They’re just a metaphor. Now let’s get down and mosh. July 2001
As when the fisher, lost in the wine-dark wine,
Misses the slow-upcreeping siren song Until, with a piercing note (reminding him Of when the mermaid tangled in the nets At last came free, and with a final fillip, Flinging the foam full into his face, Vanished into the deeps), the catchy number Sets her hook—so with a fatal jerk Ends the classical simile. April 2001
Higgledy piggledy
President Double-You Utters his speeches to Utter delight. Misunderestimate! Neighborhood hemispheres! Partial aphasia was Never so right. April 2001
Double, double, cosmic bubble
By the Law of Edwin Hubble. February 2001
I will go down to DC again, to the crowded Mall and the Pool,
And all I ask is a mandate and a Hill without a fool, And some calm polls from the newsrooms and the end of the correction, And the great luck of a swan song before the next election. January 2001
Three counts for mountebanks out of the eye,
Seven for the turf lords with their telephones, Nine for candidates, doomed to lie, One for the media with its high tone, On the television where you learn to buy. One count to fool them all, one count to blind them, One count to fix on so they’ll never look behind them, On the television where you learn to buy. November 2000
Who can know the future?
Who can know the past? Who can know the present However long it lasts? Even Aristotle, Even Thomas Nast, Even HAL 9000 With the help of Gormenghast Could not count the ballots cast. November 2000
The Weekly World News and the National Enquirer,
Always aiming higherer, Have taken the idea of news as entertainment to its logical termination Of skipping the news entirely and leaving nothing but the sensation. Entertainment Is a secret industry codeword for debrainment. October 2000
Swift as a chimney swallowing a barn,
We swallow down the governmental yarn: Let’s knit our network of prescription plugs; We who fly freely need to live on bugs. May 2000
The glorious backlit marmalade slides down the sky
at the end of the day at the end of a thousand years while up behind the unprotected crowd sweeps the terminator. That’s a wrap! Launch the fireworks! Nobody will remember to look beyond our brilliant works and days and see ourselves in a spinning cloud of stars. December 1999
Blasting through the sky
Like a nuclear device, Through the towns I fly Blinking once or twice. Rudolph’s nose is hot With meteoric light— What fun to visit every tot Within a single night. Jingle bells, jingle bells, No one else can hear. My jolly sounds are swallowed in The shock wave to my rear. December 1999
First Witch:
Why do we three draw the sea With perigee and syzygy? Second Witch: To get the media enthused, The viewers used and disabused. Third Witch: That will be when they’re confused. First Witch: Where’s the orbit? Second Witch: Round the bend. All: Let the destined show begin. December 1999
By my so potent art, as full as opera,
Boasting of placards in the noontide sun, I am the one Who found the way To bring the song and dance to light of day. Weak masters that they be, the dead lie down before me. November 1999
The haiku warned me:
“May explode into meaning.” Farewell, farewell world. September 1999
Be or not be to beweep,
Miles to go like tremulous sheep. Doom is dark. Dingle’s deep. Constellations o’er us beep. Now I know my ABC. I think I’ll write some poetry. May 1999
Let the firebrand awake!
Call on demon, duck and drake! There’s no time to rape and pillage As we charcoal every village, But still we’ll slaughter like Stallone, Till these ashes are our own. March 1999
The roses are dead.
The violets are, too. And it’s better unsaid What I think of you. Heedless Saint Valentine, Buried in clover, Don’t you dare tempt me to Do it all over! February 1999
Look how the rosy-fingered dawn,
The morn in russet mantle clad, Bleeds her life out on the lawn. Isn’t that too bad! Classical dawn goes down to day, One more shelf of books to learn, While the Pierian Prudhoe Bay Serves up drink to burn. August 1998
Seinfeld and Roseanne Barr,
And Taps for Fred Astaire. I only hope that I’m that big a star When I go off the air. July 1998
Death, be not sad, though some have called thee
Loutish and headstrong, cuz it isn’t so: You always keep your stereo turned low, And take some other guy instead of me. May 1998
I would like to turn everyone’s attention to a writer who, unlike many others, continued to swim after making his splash,
Namely, the lighter-than-water Ogden Nash, A verse humorist whose primary compositional principle Is to stubbornly remain the exact opposite of inwincible, And whose general working method is to mix up long and short lines in a way so maddening and so funny that in the end you have to conclude that he’s a genius or a whiz, Which he is. But that’s not the funniest part, the funniest part is when his wife says, Oggie dear, and he says, yes what is it my darlingest pollywoggy, And she says, Oh, nothing, I just wanted to find out what you would say when I called you Oggie. 1997
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder who you are, Up above the world as far As the driver of a car. July 1991
A Shout of Herbal Essence
With an involved Career— A Variance of Avatar— A Rump of Cavalier— And every Phoneme in the Flume Forgets the Freight it took— A verse from Mars, apparently, Transmitted—by Mistake— June 1989
Now, what does a seahorse use for a rocking chair?
It could just rock in its place—but that’s pretty boring, Especially if we want to be clever now. So let’s invent one! And give it sprockets—or maybe... Hydraulic! Of course! And powered by ocean currents, Using vanes that go round—and weights for the rocking! Wow! That’s an invention! We could earn cash like water! Hey, I’ll write to the Patent Office, if only You will do up those drawings they always want. February 1986
Barnacles bound from the harrowing sound
Of the Bailiwick’s Barnacle Bake. They run to the sea and they call as they flee, “We will hide in the great salt lake!” The guests at the fest had ingested the rest Of unescaped barnaclekind, So the Bailiwick’s hands were out searching the lands To find out the things they could find. The barnacles looked, but the ocean was cooked And had run far away from the sands. They went back to partake of the Barnacle Bake, Avoiding the Bailiwick’s hands. December 1985
I met a robot from Aristarchus Rim.
It smiled because it heard me hum this tune. And then it held out an AC power supply— It said it was the finest on the moon. And I said: “Oh, no no no, I don’t (bzz) no more, I’m tired of losing track of the score. No thank you sir, it only makes me whir, And then it makes me want a little more.” I met a robot out at Vesta Complex. It smiled when I had come in through the lock. And then it held out a box of silver-112— It said it was the finest in the rock. And I said: “Oh, no no no, I don’t fry no more; I’m tired of thinking there was a war. No thank you friend, I’m still on the mend From the time I tried it once before.” I met a robot from Enceladus Port. It smiled because it had so many things. And then it held out a dewar filled with fluorine— It said it was the finest in the rings. And I said: “Oh, no no no, I don’t (wff) no more, I’m tired of losing track of the score. No thank you droid, it only makes me annoyed- It’s even worse than H2SO4. I met a robot came from Silicon Gulch. It smiled ‘cause it was happy as could be. And then it held out a three-phase heterodyne CMOS epitaxial IC. (What a chip!) And I said: “Oh, no no no, I don’t live no more, I must be losing track of the score. Thank you my friend, let’s go on a bender Like we’d never been on one before.” Then I said: “Oh, no no no, I don’t live no more, Not if I’ve forgotten what for! Thank you my friend, let’s go round the bend Like we’d never been around before.” optional verse for college students who don’t like their faculty advisers I met a robot, a professor at school. It smiled because it thought it knew it all. And then it declared the date my thesis was due. It said I should get started in the fall. (Due in May.) And I said: “Oh, no no no, I don’t study no more, I’m tired of stayin’ up until four. No thank you creep, it makes me want to sleep, And then it doesn’t let me any more.” May 1985
Mumbledy jumbledy,
Susan Lynn Elliott Lives on a diet of Chocolate and tea, Thereby refuting her Antireductionist Views on the nature of People and me. 1985
On August 21, 1969, a spacecraft arrived in Earth orbit
from interstellar space. The world’s attention was captured by the
opportunity, and programs were quickly instituted to attempt
communication with the extraterrestrial visitor.
By 1977, progress was sufficient for the visitor to explain its purpose in traveling the stars. Its practice, it said, was to search alone for developing civilizations. It stayed with each until it could contribute something of its own which that civilization understood. Twenty-three further years passed before the visitor announced the achievement of its goal. It shortly departed Earth, leaving this poem. If you know what you can see, August 1983
When a water drop arrives
And spreads its shells wide The oysters must be envious For how would they find A richer smooth-layered pearl, A safer place to hide? April 1979
O Generation of the entirely snug
and entirely impenetrable, I have seen poets versifying in the dark, I have seen them with uneven lines, I have seen their volumes full of gibberish and heard unlikely theories. And you are smarter than they were, And I am smarter than you are; And Hopkins lives in the anthologies and cannot even write criticism. February 1979
A girl stood by the ocean,
sighing long and longingly, for she was much affected by the sunset on the sea. “My lady, this old story? Allow me to ease your mind. It goes down here in front of us and comes back up behind.” 1979
,somewhere i could never travel
madly beyond any understanding thy anfractuous head lines like headlights and thy illuminating space running driving elbow colon send he said the rubber bands flying but they broke i think the rubber bands still are flying hang it all can there be only one cantos but no shantih shantih shantih July 1978
|