The Good Country

The Non-Poem

I slough off hugs, get out of love

And fall through all affection,

But never felt I was a lonely man.

The water from the rain is dripping

Slowly down my temples.

Baptism isn't only for the young.

What's it mean? This poem here.

Millay and Keats are nothing,

Though both of them more beautiful

Than deep substantial stuff.

Two final lines are finishing

This stanza of a poem.

10-4-13

 

Unfinished Poem

He ranted about hurricanes,

Tsunamis. With a yell,

God hollered, “Mind your business!”

As he threw him into hell.

Rather like an idiot

Forbearing to react,

He wondered, “Is this honesty

Or buttermilk and tact?”

10-3-13

The Good Country

The brainless ones in herds that hurtle

Daily through red lights -

While the ones whose lights are green

Just sit and passively allow it -

They do not honk their horns

Or drive their cars into the bastards,

Charging their insurance,

Putting them in hospitals.

America is very tolerant.

10-4-13

Sick

My father called that therapist

In Oakland “Jacqui Sh-t”.

My mother called the cripple

That you married “Michael Crooked”.

But nobody molested them.

They're dead. They died in peace.

I worshiped Jacqui Schiff

And barely tolerated John.

Yet I was knocked completely off

The ledge. And then was beaten.

So keep your damned religion

And Transactional Analysis,

You very skinny, very witty

Retread alcoholic!

10-4-13