Untitled (taking suggestions)
On, off
On, off
On, off. . .
In the ripening wheat
The fireflies flash
Their coded, courtship calls.
On, off
On, off
On, off. . .
In the corn stubble
Genetic memory downloads
Phosporescent binary commands;
Triggering reproductive subroutines,
Spawning child processes.
On, off
On, off
On, off. . .
Maybe love DOES compute.
Impressions of New York (1978)
I
vertical gashes
oozing coagulating masses
of non-entity, corpuscle people
from the subcutaneous layers
of its dying flesh.
To a Gardner
For my Grandfather
Roses,
Red and yellow,
white and
that funny colour you always
said was blue;
tea roses, climbing roses,
and me. . .
we grew in your garden.
As you fed them,
a little lime,
a little compost
You fed me,
a little love,
a little wisdom.
Side by side
we blossomed.
Have I grown,
dear Grandfather,
to be as beautiful
as your
roses?
Yet another Untitled
I'm Caught--
the webs of Habit and Routine
have me at last,
have bound me fast
with
ties of obligations, regulations
chains of duty, pointing to me
shouting out what
MUST BE DONE
saying I'm the only one
who has the Time. . .
oh, by the way,
did I know it's due. . .TODAY!
Divine Justice
The Bible tells us that
Woman was deceived by Snake,
And for this Snake was cruelly punished,
And Woman made to hate him--for this one offense.
While Man, who not once, but every day
Deceives her, was given to her to love.
To a Dandelion (1975)
Dandelion, carelss and free,
Where'er the suns shines you may grow
And rear your golden head for all to see;
But in the garden where the gardener's hoe
Sends you to an undeserved end.
T'is said you are not as fair as the gentle rose
For you are yellow, not some lovely blend
Of rich red; you wear not silken clothes.
No one has tamed you yet, rough flower.
And Man despises your wild ways.
But I would rather be like you a single hour,
Than like the helpless rose for all my days.
To Sigmund Frog and PDP Services (1986)
On hold
I'm on hold again. . .
somewhere a light flashes
with remorseless regularity. . .
strobing
spiritual paralysis.
I wait
hoping someone answers. . .
Answers? Are there
answers to
multitudinous questions
clogging
intellectual
gears?
I wait
Should I hang up?
Entropy increases until
even reaching out
requires
impossible effort.
On hold. . .
I wait . . .
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