Category: Poetry

Seaside mountebanks bemuse.

Practiced hands and eyes

contrive to extricate your

trick of hearts with some

success.

Working led to questioning of the promises lingering, not quite upheld, and with no end in sight.

The maidens stand

At attention: masked

And gloved, they ask

My name.  When will

I forget my birth date?

And then there was Circe.

Not only the goddess daughter of Titan,

Circe was also a witch,

of course she was,

she was female

so it went with the territory,

He grew up isolated by his optimism, his openhearted determination to promote goodwill, waxing tall, with smooth green limbs that only looked soft, fleshy.

I remember;

early on in college

and discovering charles

bukowski – I worked

after class

in this office by the river

selling windows,

and sometimes

I'd show up early

and sit in a bookshop opposite,

drinking coffee from a paper cup

reading Factotum

and Dog from Hell – eventually

I even bought a copy.