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Month: December 2016

Memory of the Whip

It recalls backs and buttocks
and its lines mark generations
settling into an open palm
or closed fist or even a pistol
fired by one who never felt it.

The scars of the whip begin
in the flesh but seep into sleep
into nightmares that can sprout
legs to stalk the day-lit streets
because the whip cannot forget.

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Poet’s Notes: The original draft of the poem is below. If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment (further) below.

 

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City Apprenticeship

City Apprenticeship (1/21/2017)

(for Nancy)

While you were out
I crushed a cockroach
spinning in the sink.

Complained with a neighbor
about the broken stairs
when the landlord waltzed in.

Gave him a piece of my mind
until he swore he’d fix it
(‘course we know he won’t).

Schlepped the trash out even
though the bins are overflowing.
Mashed it all in ‘til they split.

As you can see I just
mastered New York City.
So when can I move in?

(Revised 1/21/17)

City Apprenticeship (12/09/2016)

(for Nancy)

While you were out
I crushed a cockroach
spinning in the sink.

Complained with a neighbor
about the broken stairs
when the landlord waltzed in.

Gave him a piece of my mind
until he swore he’d fix it
(of course, we know he didn’t).

Schlepped the trash out even
though the bins are overflowing.
Mashed it all in till they split.

As you can see I have just
mastered New York City.
So when can I move in?

####

Poet’s Notes:

The ORIGINAL poem (over a year ago) is below.
An image of the words corrected is below that.
If you feel strongly about this poem, leave a comment (further) below.

While You Were Out (7/17/2015)

While you were out
I crushed a water bug
found in the bathroom

Complained with a neighbor
about the stairs unrepaired
until the landlord arrived

Gave him a piece of my mind
and he said he’d take care of it
(of course, once again, he didn’t)

Took the trash out even though
the bins overflowed. I made
space and stuffed them in.

As you can see I have
mastered New York City.
So when can I move in?

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Madness

My mind is always cloudy
sometimes slightly so,
other times it rains and rains.
On occasion, I awake
to the clearest image
of a starburst sun.

When I see this is a dream,
clouds take their places within,
actors on a shifting stage.
Reminding me that madness
is the total absence of rain.

 

 

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