Three Poems

 

The Wages of Pascal


My mind’s abind in double and thriple blinds

Scarsely can I see what’s right in front of me

I stumble and stare at things no longer there

My head’s in the hopper, unscramblable by doppler

The planet is warming but not to me

I did it and do it and take no responsibility

Art’s a drag, thinking a bore

I pretend to doodle but to tell the truth I’m sore

No doubt these rhymes annoy you

But, face it, it’s because they suit you to a tee

What happened to disjunction, parasols, and ennui?

 

 

Dim Lands of Peace

 

That’s a killer ape, just don’t

expect me to marinate it. Sure

sure, I get it, if it’s not my

problem, pass the stickly

bougainvilleas and keep on

trusting. Only I seem to

miss every even beat in a

road. Might as well say

hazelnut grounds of unperturbed

timeliness. I hit the brakes

too late, story of my inky

reprobation. 

 

 

For Real

 

Reality don’t lie. For real,

The truth is what’s foundering there. 

 

Truth is found in the morning’s light

That every noon puts out of sight.

 

Liars move on, the lie remains:

Lies that truth enshrines and engrains.