****
Ode to a Farmer’s Market
The dust that kicks and whirls
Among the feet of so many
Somebody’s, carefully unaware
Of whose prints went before,
Drifts into my vision like
The speckled air within a
Shaft of sunlight, caught lilting
And falling with the breeze.
***
Ode to Rain
The panes are rivulets of glass
Sliding through transparency
And on into oblivion.
***
Ode to the Library
10/31/10
Their cracking spines, the smell of leather,
Encasing me in word and letter.
But how on earth do I begin?
I run my hands along their skin,
The words and phrases held within.
These rows of thoughts stacked far above
My head, like abbey walls I love
To find a sanctuary under,
Never bothered, left to wonder
At the smell of thought that’s here…
Far too many, far too dear.
***
Men
10/31/10
Would you men stop your whining?
Your pining? Your sighing?
I’m sick to my stomach,
Don’t act like you’re dying.
I know that you aren’t,
I see you’ve got breath
To make all these pathetic
Laments at my breast.
So you must be alright,
(Or at least right enough)
To get out of my hair
‘Fore I knock your block off!
***
A Man Is Like A China Cup
-10/31/10
A man is like a china cup:
You choose it,
Use it,
Drink it up.
And then one day by some slight slip,
You drop that cup from where it sits
And there he shatters on the floor…
No matter! There are many more.
***
