Tuesday, September 22, 2020


No few complain how poetry elides
The things it treats, how it often hides
Its meaning by presenting stranger sides
Than commonly are seen and rides
Out in stranger gallops that betide
A drunken horse. Denied
Their easy access, they deride
Verse art and do not look inside
Themselves to see where they are tied
With hitching knots and left alone.

Monday, September 21, 2020


Even as summer must fade
I prize the breezes and the shade
Gotten even if delayed

Sunday, September 20, 2020


Though I mean to stay my hand
I cannot help but stiffly stand
And seek to answer the demand
That nature instills in me
No little death I seek to deal
Yet still the longing thence I feel
Although I cannot well repeal
The act that almost twins me

Saturday, September 19, 2020


Some of the blossoms have opened again
Swaying with the winds of coming autumn
And new buds arise to join them now
While their tenders bustle about
All unsure what they should do and fretting
When the answer is to let them grow
The master gardener will prune away what needs it
And shape the growth to best effect
When it is time to put on the show

Friday, September 18, 2020


Neither seated in the See of Rome
Neither celibate
Neither yet in Avignon or Pisa
But likely sedevacantist
And claiming both
Inspiration divine and sovereignty
I will be their Luther if I must

Thursday, September 17, 2020


She rushes in where other children play
But finds no bosom friend today
For as she comes in, she finds they
Are called to come in, go away,
And she alone sits on the swing
And climbs to slide, and each such thing,
Comes back again, begins to cling
To parents' sides, no more playing.

Wednesday, September 16, 2020


The sun shines
The breeze blows
The child laughs
Her mother knows
The time is short
The darkness grows
The light recedes
The ugly shows

Tuesday, September 15, 2020


My inkwell seems too dry at present;
Being spat upon does not make for the needed moisture
Unless it is from much higher up than those expectorating now
Or with a mouth far bigger
If such a thing can be imagined.

Monday, September 14, 2020


Please close your eyes, O Stupid God, and see
No trace or hint of family or me,
But rest a while, and sleep, and let us flee
Who strive to never bear the knobby crown
That you have put on offer the world round
And that has, heavy, borne many heads down;
We seek no exaltation thus. We thought
We might in time, by doing as we ought,
A swift escape effect, but we are caught
As mice or birds before the watchful eye
Of staring snake, of hawk up in the sky,
And if we move, our lives we may belie.
But still, we may the vulture yet attract;
Who stands between the two is painful, wracked.

Sunday, September 13, 2020


They gather around the small-handed stand-in
That Stupid God sent, the citrus affliction
Painted but poorly and draped just as well,
Horse's ass standing as if centaur's front,
Their golden calf cult-focus, heeding no flame,
No wrath from on high, avenging angel,
But think themselves blessed to have such a one
Standing among the and raving as fevered,
All a-twitter and at all hours
While blood flows in the streets not ending blue lives;
They would play in the puddles and think themselves pure