Jesus Cried

Morning In Denny's

Surrounded by the books

And all of them are mine.

Were they more poetical,

And less a thing for swine,

Happier – or neutral -

Birds and earth and brine -

Sweat and blood and semen -

Secular, divine -

Reaching for the earth

Looking at the sky -

Every poem true

Unless it is a lie -

5-16-14

Jesus cried

Jesus cried. Jesus was a man.

All men cry. Most men cry a lot.

That's the only proof there is a god.

A rain of sparrows. Are my poems good?
If they are, who will publish them?
They're making ammunition out of god.

God! The most relentless of them all.

When the sun comes out and weeping ceases,

Someone makes a joke, and life is new,

Though a little older. Carry on.

5-16-14

 

Puss In Boots

The giant was an ogre.

He hid among the wheat

Seeking tender Englishmen,

A lovely thing to eat,

A ripe and juicy treat,

Succulent and sweet.

Pussy mocked the giant

From whom all others fled.

“You do metamorphosis.

At least I've heard it said.”
“I can grow enormous.

Larger than a house.”
“Piffle!” snorted Puss.

“Change into a mouse!”
“Are you mocking me?”
Incensed the ogre roared.

“Only just a little.

You make me very bored.”

“Bored?” the hapless ogre

Roused himself to say.

And of a sudden hidden

Beneath a stalk of hay

Where the giant stood,

Stood a mouse that ran away.

The mouse was very grey.

“Don't run so fast!” cried Pussy.

“You're such a tiny mite

That I could eat you up

With just a single bite.”

And that is what he did.

And for the clever few

I'll add, Before he swallowed him

Puss bit the mouse in two.

Lest the little mouse

All whole inside the cat

Turn back into a giant.

No. I can't have that.

5-13-14