A toad, not only
a toad, not only a toad
not only a toad
☯
Green lamp at the top
of the staircase; I’m waiting
on a silhouette
☯
Staring straight at me
doesn’t seem to remember
the woman he won
☯
On either side of
order in the universe
a clawing banshee
☯
Rejected again…
clouds cover and uncover
the quarter moon
☯
Sober in my cell
not enough anguish and tears
to last me the night
☯
If the flesh is weak
and the soul is immortal,
what of in-between?
☯
Drunk at 8 am
his drained Corona bottle
clanks over the curb
☯
Damp cherry blossoms
speckle the sidewalk sunbreak
more talk of new war
☯
Pizza and beer
and looking like he’s lucky
to hold both of those
☯
All this death brooding
and Lo! Only one minute
closer to the end
☯
Two racing raindrops
down the train window, southeast
know nothing of Trump
☯
Man teaching woman
to speak Pacific Northwest;
short “E” on “Elvis”
☯
Self-discovery!
Pretty much standing naked
between womb and world
☯
Open-winged seagulls
batter against the windstorm
stiff bills cocked skyward
☯
Of benediction,
this poem would be, could I
but muster that soul
