One day Melania was walking along the beach wondering what to do about her husband. She was worried that he would not make it through another month, much less his term, without a miracle. While she was walking, feeling hopeless and deep in thought she came upon a beautiful iridescent fish that had been washed …
The poet was not killed or harmed in this fantasy of world’s end
I’m sad. Let’s be sad together. I’m angry too. Let’s be angry together. Let’s be sad About what makes you sad first. Then we can be sad about What makes me sad. Then we can get angry together. I have a list of things That make me angry and sad At the same time! Will …
Continue reading “The poet was not killed or harmed in this fantasy of world’s end”
No poem tonight
I shake my head, And frown into A virtual page of white — This screen — That lights my face In this otherwise dark room That we have been trying to heat Against the storm That blows as if to extinguish Our little box of light. The white of the screen Mimics the white Of …
Black butterfly — New Year, new world
Ink blot Black butterfly Voice of the smallest Hear them ? Voices of Dogs and parakeets Hear the Voices of trees, clouds Forests, barns, Houses, little bridges (Listen to that little bridge You just crossed It is saying, Good You made it ) Now the mountain Is underneath us Whispering, Climb me I have something …
New poem
Akooh
Ink blot test Cross burnings Into a corner Black butterfly Voice of the little Pinball machine Suburban garage The fourth world Day four anyone Familiar names Dogs and parakeets There’s more to it Those who lived Sense of rage Sort of thing Had a modicum Clings to your finger Pull the cork …
New poem
The hourglass
Sand through the hourglass. Sand in my eyes. Sleep don’t come easy. The moment is fragile. I heard him say, The moment is fragile. I heard him come in. I heard him say, Sleep don’t come easy. Too many lies. Rivers of lies. Sand of lies. Oceans of tears and lies. Cities are fragile. The …
New poem
The judgment
I was driving to town. I rounded a curve and jammed the brakes. There was a raccoon walking away Right in the middle of the road. I slowed down to the speed of her gait. I had a good chance to look at her. I determined she was a she With a dark outer …
The first argument
One morning, at breakfast,
Creator took a bite out of his toast.
He held it up to his wife proudly.
Moon, he said.
He took another bite.
Mushroom, he said.
His wife frowned.
He took another bite.
Anteater, he said.
And another: Acacia.
Now his wife glared at him.
Acacia!?
Creator was squirming in his chair.
He had to pee.
He took several quick bites,
Leaving only the trunk
And a big bulb at the top
Before he hurried from the table.
Human, he said over his shoulder.
His wife stared at his plate.
I feel sorry for that skinny thing! she said.
And that giant brain is only going to get him in trouble!
She nibbled the top much smaller and sighed,
Not looking forward
To when her husband returned.
I'm ready
Ok, now I’m ready.
I’m breathing,
I’m thinking.
I’m waving to you.
See?
See?
There, you see me!
Now let’s look at each other.
You, over there,
me over here.
Breathing,
thinking.
Now let’s wave to someone else.
Get their attention.
Shout if necessary.
Strike a cymbal.
There,
they see me.
Does your person see you?
This is great, isn’t it?
Yeah, this is great.
New poem by TCBH!'s resident poet
The Bloody Gun
The soldier was tired of his bloody gun.
He saw a young stranger
And handed him the gun.
Here take this,
The stranger said,
I will take it, but what will I do with it?
The soldier had walked away.
I will give this gun to the ocean.
He gave the gun to the ocean.
I will take it but what will I do with it?
The stranger had walked away.
I will wash the blood off this gun,
I will give it to the depths.
Ocean gave the gun to the depths.
I will take it but what will I do with it?
The sea had closed its ears.
The depths held the gun for a hundred years.
I will give the gun to time.
Time said, I will take it
But what will I do with it?
The depths had closed its heart.
Time gave the gun to the reef.
I will take it, said the reef
But what will I do with it?
Time had passed on.
The reef held the gun for a thousand years
And then a thousand more.
Now the gun said,
I am tired of being a gun,
But what will I do with myself?
I will give myself to peace.
Peace said to the gun, I will take you.
I know what to do with you.
Peace held the gun tenderly,
Tenderly, tenderly,
Because the world had finally changed.
–Gary Lindorff