Forget about frowning baby the drowning feels so good.
In your hurricane, I wash ashore, if I could die, I would.
I'd let the sight of your aggression, paralyze me whole.
I'd give myself to your possession, your storm controls my soul.
Forgive me for all the attention, I reach for what I fear-
To crawl forever for your affection if it takes a year-
Or more, I'm sure, ashore Ill die before my heart for you will wane
If it means I can feel close to you, I'll choose your hurricane.

Incoherent, it makes no sense,
for one to refuse to use past tense
when now is then, and then before,
Is it possible therefore to learn no more?
Foolishness is such a chore.

What's more is a giant "never-to-be"
The present chopped it down haphazardly
Like a tree to a nest that never gets built
the structure with no purpose- "milk-spilt"
forget about the glass, forget about my @%$!

Once in a while, to revile, the action,
the causality of which is pure subtraction,
a break down in the interaction, of chemical
bonds ironic.

A phonic play on ionic power,
the game ends in no more than a cold shower,
and fusion is left uninvented.

He is a baby fresh and new
light brown curls, eyes powder blue

He is a busy little boy
a matchbox car his favorite toy

He grows into his awkward years
with shy moments and stick-out ears

A lanky young man begins to shave
he longs for girls to misbehave

As a man he pays the bills and more
He dreams of what may be in store

For the future baby little boy blue
to whom he will teach two times two

As an old man with creaking knees
his mind reflects upon all he sees

As the seconds to the hours wane
A sigh signifies the thought's refrain

He has been here before and will be again

Comet on the metal sink turns into mysterious green foam
as the lady in yellow gloves stretched up to her elbows
mashes a misshapen wad of crocheted plastic bits in the
corners striving for a new sink- different from the sink
that lazed around the kitchen yesterday.

Easy-Off soaks into the grease from yesterday's oven
as a new oven will emerge in two hours like a phoenix
from hamburger ashes and last month's casserole overflow.

In the bathroom, a cleanser soaks into the pores of the
tub where soap scum, skin cells, and renegade hairs
have gathered with a coup d'etat in mind. Little do
they know there is a new regime to take over and the
governance of the bathroom shall be cleaner than before.

When the vacuum has declared war and the carpets liberated
of dust and pet hair, the cleaning lady will take a hot
shower and slather herself in body wash, shampoo, bath oil
and conditioner. She will disperse the thick fog and appear
to the glory and vindication of every product: "Like New!"

The raindrops tappity-tap on the window pane.
Gene Kelly on my brain it's undeniably merry rain.
Though not a drop is "fallin' on my head".

Two cats stare pensively at the brave stray
who stands in the grass undisturbed by the fray.
As lightening strikes even bravery gives way
and one little mister runs inside instead.

This summer evening sounds foreboding
but romance fills my mind and apple candles shine
while paperwork lays here and there.

I sit upon a wooden chair that reminds me
of school days past. Whence there in the library
He smiled at she whose face I know and whose name changed last.

In these evening hours,
I'm consumed by happy rain showers,
the kind that leave your eyes clean and bright
The emotion I possess is void of distress-
And thus my little poem is trite.

Early afternoon soon and the heat's on my face in
a space where I feel the pace move free from me.
July, a reply to that March winter five from now.
Like a hand with fingers outstretched to show the
distance from your littlest finger and your thumb
Summer has come.

Begin with your toe and move every joint slow
and as you relax you remember you are alive
Strive for this awareness while awake take time
in rhyme for your mind must move too anew in bliss
the next second will not be the same as this.

Despite the race track the cat arches its back
and takes a steady mental note of where he's been.
I am not that cat but I must become one, in sum,
I trust time to teach the answers I need to be
free like the sea where no man swims.

The grouped girls at the rock wall
taking pictures of themselves laugh
loudly with overly animated gestures
expressing freedom and independence
as a quintet of flocked individuals.

The rest of the scene is basically
pure, yellow sun, tousled grasses,
mist from a waterfall, and tourist
types calmly seeking an inspirational
moment with a digital camera, a photo
to remind them that the trip was worth
the monthly to their credit card company.

Then it happens-
Two of the five girls simultaneously
chug their cans of pop and plop
their aluminum cans on the rock wall.
In dodo bird formation they all
twaddle away down the dirt path.

Did I: Mention the mist? The leaves
gently fluttering? The gold warm
light? The undeniable fact that this
is a place where Nature heartily flaunts
the best she has to offer the human race?

This is a true story, Nature gave it
her all and all those girls
could think to give back
were two soda-pop cans.

Human Trash.

black plastic squares
decipher my thoughts
on a black plastic screen
in points of light I write

my pens and pencils have
all but retired and are
for notes-to-self and nostalgia
not for communication

while a desk collects dust
this lap goes where I do
and this tool follows along
its use could not be wrong
for I haven't another clue
how to pass the time I must