Archive for category Poem
Two mangy dogs down by the Claverack Creek
Insist that, on early spring mornings,
County Road 25 belongs to canines,
Not cars, silence or jogging poets,
So each morning they come at me
In all their dirty, furry little anger,
Balancing their pace with their courage,
Until I turn and jump toward them, arms out,
The sudden star of an Off-Broadway musical,
A move any crackpot poet knew was coming.
I’m no man of headaches and this one took three days
To take off, lifting like a flock of geese,
Clucks and double clucks,
A retired steam locomotive on the Fourth of July,
The coughing and whispering of pressurized air.
My furry henchmen, having exchanged glances,
Steal away, bewildered, as many an audience.
Then, conquering the moment, I stand by the river
Where the other morning I stepped in
And swam against the current, moving and not moving.
Writing is what happens while you’re sleeping
And at daybreak, it all comes floating by —
Familiar voices, a missing paragraph, this poem.
All the poet has to do is the living, the loving,
The exhilarating loneliness of typing.
A not-so young comedian of New York
On a cruise of not-so Norwegian ports
Made half the guests smile
The rest he bribed
To laugh and pee in their shorts.
Honorable Nobel Committee
When you award me for being witty
Don’t share the prize
With three other guys
Or my mother will say, What a pity!
When facts are scorned
And lies prevail
It’s Hell on Earth
And Heaven in Hell
For common sense
Is quite amiss
Where ignorance is
No longer bliss
We need now, people
More than ever
The blueprints for
The Tower of Babel
To build it high
And let those climb
Who poison the minds
With guile and slime
Good riddance, we chant,
Now truth shall blossom
And let there be light
It’s totally awesome