Friday, October 8, 2010

VEGETABLES

We put food in our
mouths, chew and swallow
it because it tastes
good or because we

want to live past yesterday.
I did. I lived past
yesterday today.
I might do it again

tomorrow if I have
time and if the
vegetables don't taste
so bad that I have

no choice but to spit
them back onto my plate.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

INSTRUCTIONS

Walk down a different
street if you want
to meet someone different.
If you would prefer

not to meet anyone,
walk down a deserted
street. Always walk
down the street

that leads to the
destination you are
trying to reach. If
you are not going

anywhere, stop.
You are probably lost.
RHINO

The rhinoceros, of course,
ends with us not knowing
where the nose goes
while elsewhere a rose

goes on smelling sweet
without its name. (Would
we were the same.) The
'the' in 'there' might as

well be a 'duh' (almost
is, truth to tell). Hope
you're half as swell
as you often seem to

be in this dream I keep
having about the two of us.

Monday, October 4, 2010

SO FAR

When morning returns
(and it always has
so far), I like to
wake up and touch

it with my fresh idea
of what life, with
its squiggles, means.
I immediately forget,

of course, what life means
(since immediately
erasing every answer
is what I do best),

but I throw open the window
anyway to let the morning in.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

BIRTHDAY

I get up each
morning to grow
a day older without
trying. No

one notices but me,
nor should it matter
all that much to
anyone but me.

Others notice once
a year on what
they've dubbed my
"birthday". But it's

not my birthday. It's
noticeably later than that.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

REPORTEDLY

My plan was no
one gets hurt no
matter what, but the
best-laid plans of

rascals and rodents
gang oft aglee, and,
if I must say so
myself (and how else

would I say so?),
people are dropping
like bumblebees (Tony
Curtiss just died

reportedly because he
didn't know how not to).

Friday, October 1, 2010

THEN

Because the air has been
replaced by music,
my car won't start.
I kick one of the round

rubbery circles the car
rests on and tell it to
get a move on. It
doesn't budge. Then my

pencils start thinking
they're something else
and don't jot down
some really great ideas

I suddenly find myself in
possession of. Then they do.