Pens Lost In Digital Snow

Seals and polar bears swimming.
Pens of explorers lost.

Many digital articles on Eskimos
laughing together
transcribed from pen works, but
not much left from
writings in the snow.

Ambiguity must be earned, for
never would one know
there’s no flower in the snow.

Returning to the laughing igloo
he brings home the food and fur
of a work without a pen

Spear and club are shrug-ugly
piercing the seal in blood
opening the seals of soul, a muddy
ambiguity of his spirit to live
to eat, and return to the igloo,
though now his child has a computer.

The blessed child is the after-laugh.
Oh such a giggle rainbow, colors that grow
in many modal drawings of love,
in crayons, in finger paints, in ink, in
the paint of explosive jello
and the wiggle of love with cosmic pen
writing in the streak of laughing stars.
Many articles about stars, ice,
the noble hunt, and he, the warrior
may someday look for
his pen in the snow, when
he began to take notes for a researcher.

His child doesn’t need
a pen or spear anymore
nor a need to ever return to the igloo.

Saving Shakespeare

You told me to study Shakespeare, and I’ve
been really trying, but it’s archaic, and I
don’t know why I would love you more
if you were an ancient poem, were
exactly an iambic pentameter;
oh ancient god don’t make my love
worship you because
I love her more than
you could ever know, and
ancient or not, I will
draw my sword and slay you
if you should ever harm my greatest love.

Yes, I am determined to be powerful,
and I will find whatever secret I need
to save my Love.

My Dearest love,
even if it’s the last thing I do
I will rhyme your name into my
last and every song so
there will be so many echoes that
forever everyone will love you
like I do

Sillyness

An Undefined Drop in the Ocean

She’s a renowned philosophy professor
an Atheist by trade, but

we looked out at the stars
one night on the beach, and
it seemed an oceanic feeling

when she professed her love to me
in her way, and I did in mine

Waves of happiness
swept over us like a
shared Yikeness in the Sillyverse

the poem fails

So the poem fails. It’s a catastrophe. Doesn’t work. There’s a draft 5. No good.

Well, it was supposed to be like a dream that starts off in a mild form that seems to be real but soon transforms into a nightmare. It was supposed to indicate that compulsive eating is sometimes a symptom of trauma. Making oneself unattractive can be a defense mechanism.

So it goes to the newspaper morgue

Gone Off

If You’re Going Off

Have you flown on
like a feather in a whisper?
Maybe you’ve gone off.

But you can’t go off without me
’cause don’t we always go off together

Don’t we go wild together
celebrate the unity laugh
fall onto a stunt mattress

If you’ve gone away,
if you’ve gone astray

tell me that you’ll be careful
remember we’re substantial
in silly ways with safety nets

Stunt woman,
if you’ve gone to seek a beach,
take the care road to the shells
and toe in the water to

listen for an ocean sound, but
if there’d be rain, let it be musical:
a pitter-clap and applause.

If be there sun
let it not burn though

if there be fog
let the fog horn be
triumphant like a fanfare, but

I’m not sure what do about the grasshoppers —
maybe chocolate.
(not sure if grasshoppers like chocolate)

For every whisper, a breeze;
for every breeze, a sail;
for every sail, a ship;
for every ship, a destination.

For a destination
me and a tickle,
and a last jump, because

I don’t want you to fall
into anyone but me
when I’m real soft and cushy

Cold

Icebergs

I watch beauty drift away on icebergs
see a doomed survivor last a moment

My thoughts are frozen screams
when my dreams of rescue are futile
and I speak with slow motion cream
like flotsam on foamy white waves

Mostly the chill of my face
is too ugly to observe in person

but in the ice cream of my words
many find cherries and berries, and

I am often delicious by the pint, and
when someone has a “brain freeze”
I giggle a little and think to myself:
if only you knew how slowly I would melt
if you thought I was cool in your arms
and was your precious observant dessert
just a little tart, just a little sweet, and
jumping from icebergs onto your ship

Cats and Dogs

By The Rules

I knew a young upper class talking cat
who went to a trés chic hospital
with all the most enlightened accommodations:

they had singers and musicians
comics, spiritual healers and
shamans of all kinds
chanters and meditators
prayers

But they had manuals
for what to do for every contingency

Despite all, the cat reported some anxiety

That’s when after consulting the manual,
they brought in the therapy dog

The healers all got bitten and scratched
but they prayed with ferocity

The cat went elsewhere for a face lift
and the dog did stand-up comedy
in a club that bars all cats