Though seldom warm,
more often bracing cold,
I soon adjust.
Uplifted, blissful, freed.
...
My mother taught me
how to clip my nails.
Just one more parent's duty
I suppose.
...
The theatre is empty, dark.
The stage is bare.
My heart is all I hear.
My temples ache.
...
Let's hear it for the spirit.
Now lift your voice in song.
But if your arm's too weak, my friend,
You'd best not sing along.
...
Like bulls and bears
within the market pit
the publishers and critics
seek the prize investment
...
He saw a two inch rock
amid the sand.
He saw three sections
with three lobes across.
...
That brilliant paradox
on Keats' Urn would seem
the pinnacle of art.
But truth is rarely beautiful
...
Have Fame and Fortune
turned you down?
You too can join a group
revered, elite, yet true.
...
You're looking for a wizard?
Don't look here.
(I'm no Professor Marvel.
I'm a sham.)
...
“But Poetry's dead, ”
they say
“And Song and Drama, Painting too!
No Muse. No Bard.
...