poe-mayday

A new poem every day

[poe-mayday]

"The moon is a blushing bibliography

beneath its shadow-shawl

it sites its sources modestly"

(Learned Astronomers et al).

[poe-mayday]

Dance around the reef

Whisper sharp and slow

Shimmer wicked shipwreck wave

A deadly, final flow

[poe-mayday]

Love is a dull cheddar

Its blunted orange bite

offensively mild

Its lacking luster

making muensters

of us all

[poe-mayday]

We told him he was beautiful

We told him lots of lies

We could not meet his mirror-need

We could not meet his eyes

[poe-mayday]

The moon is a literate continent --

romances wash ashore.

By the light of a long-loving other

it reads a black ocean.

[poe-mayday]

Paint a picture, shipwrecked sailors.

Paint with brine and blues.

Paint with sunburns, sails and salt,

the grate of sand-in-shoes.

[poe-mayday]

Whenever he

bends to mend

he remembers

melee rends.

--

Whenever he

whets the edge

he remembers

The End.

[poe-mayday]

Far apart

a trap, a hart

pass as stars

pass sparks

[poe-mayday]

The moon is a dependable answer

with two continual questions

from tender, distant dancers:

What tidings? What transgressions?

[poe-mayday]

Wesley wept.

Deeds he regrets.

Sleep bereft,

he seeks rest.

--

Eleven P.M. never ends --

then there's twelve.

[poe-mayday]

Hard bark, half trunk, shriveled stump

sits and sits and sits.

It isn't where it ought to be;

It ought'nt be, but is.

[poe-mayday]

I lived by the railroad in Sodom,

the freight trains would rattle the floor.

And I smoked em on days when I had em,

until no one had nothing no more.

[poe-mayday]

Scrambled eggs

and calling birds

and smoke encrusted lungs

--

I love your legs

I love the lord

I wish you weren’t a nun

[poe-mayday]

I met a widow Saturday,

on Wednesday we were wed.

I wish that I was sad to say --

I’m glad her husbands dead.

[poe-mayday]

The aspect basket carries on

with offal archetypes.

The priest and pancreas and pawn,

swinging soft and ripe.

[poe-mayday]

I feel full of finer things,

china chipped and cracked.

My stomach, stretching, starts to sing

of sharp and shifting stacks.

[poe-mayday]

I wish I was a wiser worm,

squirming sensibly.

Though living long I never learn,

I inch eternally.