Sunday, January 31, 2016

Phlegmatic Immunity

I'm too old for this.
My first book of poems
was just published in
Romania. The chances 
of anyone outside that 
country seeing it are as
good as if it were published
by Hillbilly Press in 

It was nice to see my words
in print. That lasted a day or

I wrote this in a dream:
"Achievements are blades
of grass that fly in the face
of death like straw in the wind."

I think I was trying to tell myself

I'm enjoying my cranky, creaky
life too much anymore to try 
very hard to do anything.

Anyway, my poems are like a
message from a bottle, unlikely
to be found except on some
distant shore.

Dig me now, or, dig me up...

Look! I'm a time Capulet!
Too lazy even to commit
suicide...not even enough
intention for that. Just
another forgotten Yorick:

"He had a great sense of 
humor, although I can't
prove that."


Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home