Your Sweetness

I stroke his head. His tail wags wildly,
pink tongue flicking up at me, politely
begging to touch my face. Yesterday
he met a baby bird that swelled
its feathers in fear before his solemn
curiosity. When I dawdle too long
before our walk, he talks to me
in a deep sweet questioning lilt.
In Bosnia, Afghanistan, Somalia
men slaughter each other. At home lies
burrow termite tunnels beneath social
smiles. Old dog, it is outrageous, it is
intolerable, your sweetness.

Note: This poem is not recent, but only the names of some of the countries have changed, plus the dog died in 1996 -- aged 16. He was much nicer than me.

High Potential

I am basically
nothing at all,
which makes me

very flexible.

ZIP!

The clouds break open.
Sunbeams streak up each tree
like squirrels.

Self Knowledge

Know myself:
Lean forward enough
to miss my belly
when I spit.

Gulls

Gull wings ripple the sky,
bits of loose wave
escaped into the air.

Note: Gulls in flight here seen from behind or in front, where one sees two curved concavities facing downwards, like eyebrows.

A Class Act

How do you follow
an act like Hello.


Note: I suppose that's why we linger over goodbyes, trying to wring a few last drops of drama out of them. A live, real hello holds such promise that, having failed, in our 2nd and 3rd acts (conversation, dinner, movies, love-making, etc.) to live up to that promise, we must hope for a tragic farewell. No wonder we get so many of them.

The proper act to follow hello is hello, and again hello. Even goodbye should be a form of hello.

NOW she's naked

Just when we thought the stripper
had taken everything off, she shed
a tear.