CHIRP

The bird liked to sing // outside my midnight window, // chirping in the dark.

COVID

We’ve reached 100,000 souls
But there are probably more;
Some now watch our death count
Like it’s a sports-team score.
Trump bungled the early response
And called it just a trick,
Said it was some Demo hoax
While thousand more got sick;
It will go away! Disappear in fact!
A miracle will end this pox;
Here, now take this unproven drug,
Or drink some pure Clorox.
As numbers reached highest points,
Families mourned those sent off,
While honoring too our veteran dead,
Trump played some rounds of golf.

WORK LOCKDOWN

I turn on the light
At the end of the hall
But there’s nothing really to fear
It’s just that it’s quiet
And a little bit weird
When no other people are here;
The computers hum
And the lights have a buzz,
But otherwise it’s rather still;
Though oddly I like it
Noiseless like this,
I miss conversation at will.

VERONA'S JULIET

VERONA'S JULIET

So many visitors have rubbed her face
And other invasions of personal space
So now she’s in Castelvecchio’ museum
No more touching, you can only see them;
Such bronze and beauty one can’t replace.

MORNING hawk (haiku)

MORNING HAWK

He sat majestic
Upon steeple, surveying
Eternal domain.

NIGHT

Nighttime has no face,
And so, no need to replace
This light with shadow.

WE KNOW

Why are so many surprised,
While others feign disbelief
That this terrible president
Flouts our sacred laws and
Our Constitution, that he
swore to uphold?
We knew who he was
From the beginning, and
He hasn’t changed,
even a little.
Children separated,
Journalists murdered,
Minorities insulted,
Farmers and business hurt
Poor suffering,
Foreign leaders bullied,
Kurds forsaken,
And so many more
Know exactly who he is.

I HOPE

Were his lifetime memories
Still vibrant in his soul,
As the ravages of time
Took its terrible toll?
Did his hikes and camping trips
Remain somewhere inside?
And his submarine service
Yet give eternal pride?
Were his wives and children too
Alive in aging mind,
Boy Scout deeds and mountain trips,
Adventures of all kind.
Old relatives and folk still here,
Their loving prayers out loud,
Hope that they came back to him
When he reached pearly cloud.

EMPTY NEST (haiku)

EMPTY NEST

How does mother hen

Deal with chicks flying away

To different fates?

A DARKER PLACE

A DARKER PLACE

There is no joy in this White House
Like presidencies of the past;
No gala spectacles we see,
Just angry Twitter blasts;
It seems that stars of lesser light
Sometimes will visit there,
But when sports champions show up
Trump feeds them fast-food fare;
The humor’s mean, the quips untrue,
Much hatred, and countless lies,
The Capitol's now a darker place,
What with its Russian ties.

NIGHT POEMS

During the night I dream in rhyme,
Sometimes whole poems, or just a line;
Fragments will come and easily go,
I cannot stem this nocturnal flow.

AFTERLIFE

If our soul is also mind
And we don’t leave it behind,
Then afterlife will be okay;
There is space for lots of play.

MIKEY POEM

Around 1994 or so, when I was living with Chris Kelm, we (I guess technically she) adopted a beautiful, friendly brindle racing greyhound who ran under the name Michigan Mike, somewhat successfully, and we got him through a rescue as Mikey. I had not written a poem since high school, and one day I was serving as a proctor for a state medical examination, when suddenly I came across a line in my head, and I wrote it down. During the test, which lasted for hours, I wrote the poem down on the back of a restroom pass, with a little drawing. It was later published in a small newsletter, likely none still existing, and I thought my copy gone forever. I am moving this week, and when I cleaned off a shelf, I found the original poem. Here it is:

MIKEY

Light foot flash on
oval track,
Halvah shaded straining
back,
Playful buck, so full of
spunk,
Gentleman, yet ready
to funk,
Bouncing, prancing,
bowing boy,
Love ta shake dat
rabbit toy.
Who would think that
anyone,
After all that money
and fun,
Would put this beauty
down to rest?
Glad we got him,
he's the best.

EVA'S ORCHID

A perfect petal
softly curved, caught by a
painter's eye observed.

MORNING

MORNING

I'm awakened
by two competing haiku,
fighting in my head.

GEESE

GEESE

Every morning
two Canadians fly by
honking their hellos.

FINCHES

The finches are back,
traveling on their way south,
tittering in trees.

DOWNED

The storm-toppled tree,
cut up and quickly removed;
and now I miss it.

SOUL BACKUP

Did God install a back-up switch,
In case of devastating glitch!
To one’s soul, like memory stick,
When the mind turns off in click,
With Alzheimer’s or just old age,
In times the brain fails to engage;
And when the end does come at last,
Does some reboot reclaim the past?
And send the soul on its last flight,
With all memories then made right?


[If we are not our memories, then what are we? What goes on in the soul, that will make sure one connects with loved ones in the afterlife? Alzheimer's is a cruel disease.]

ANYWHERE

It could have easily been
a cowboy bar, or rock concert,
crowded subway train filled,
elementary school stilled
by crazed mind, anger filled;
clutching weapon of mass destruction,
on any street in America.