Sometimes there’s just no poetry and...

Sometimes there’s just no poetry

and…

you sit and watch the clock and the

steady movement of the hands slo-

wly reach  out  in search  of a drink
is  as  close  to  love as  you can  get
lost in the faces of strangers as they
pass  by  on  the  street signs speak
foreign words and  remind  you of
how far you are from home is only
a memory fading like bright colors
in the sun faints  again  at the  app-
roach of the darkness does not care
that you are alone in this room wat-
ching the hands of the clock.

SMG

Cookie Jar

Cookie Jar

The years  like cookies  from  a jar

are consumed without thought we

move through  the days and nights

half of each lost to sleep pass more

quickly than the days spent in want-

ing are marked by motion devoid of

meaning  defines  the madness  that

is this life  often  not  savored  until

the years like cookies from a jar are

almost gone

SMG

Ladies Night at the Bauhaus

Ladies Night at the Bauhaus

The  forms of  these women  tend to
fail  the  function test but the aesth-
etics  and  hedonists  never  did  sit
together  in school I let Ezra pound
modernism  into  my  brain  until  I
questioned everything I learned on
Sunday Kandinsky waxed  theosop-
hical while feverishly waving  a pro-
tractor and paintbrush  in the air of
post-war Germany’s zeitgeist ornam-
entation gave way to the  functional
man  will  occasionally  impractically
fall for the aesthetic form of a woman
with no regard for the school to which
she belongs.

SMG

Food Chain

Food Chain

Crumbs fall from
the communion
table of the church
mice weave and
bob, cat stalking
them methodically
in the darkened
sanctuary does not
exist outside these
stained glass
windows overlook
the pastor’s dog,
Bob, cat hanging
limp in his mouth
moves out of habit
prayers having
become empty
words do not feed
the huddled flock
in the pasture alert
and in fear of
the hungry bobcat

SMG

Pome Eighty One (81)

Pome Eighty One (81)

Daydreams turn to weak
aspirations long before
the monthly bills come
due you spend your time
wisely or did I see you
ask for change--Absurd
SoHo poets don’t think
so you better watch out
or you may drown in the
stream of consciousness
is the apex of Abraham’s
need I say more--Abstract
shun intangible images
as they are crutches for
the simple mind your
metaphors and similarly
beware the march I’d
love another drink--Imbibe

Be Holden

Be Holden

John Lennon
was shot on a
Monday night
falls fast in the
perilous city
(e)scape can be
difficult after
the sun goes
down on her
and she moans
in surrender
unto Caesar
that which is
not God's dead
after all the news
that's fit reported
that too decades
before Chapman
went looking
for the ducks

SMG