Poetry or Noetry?
1. Old Stuff
From the 1999 collection “How to Teach Fish to Swim”
Sadist
crybaby.
one. two. three.
she’s a simple little sadist -
she can count to three.
she waves goodbye when
no one’s home.
she flips her finger
briefly
and laughs.
she’s simple like that
when the little things matter the most
and a sadist gets tired
of being a ghost.
2. My favorite Haiku (this is pretty old, from memory)
shhhh, do you hear that?
I’m killing something, she said.
I must be at least.
3. New Stuff – very raw and needing some work, but I like my poetry in the raw.
from the collected work in progress “Seven Deadly Sundays”
Perspicacity and Potted Plants
never saw it coming
car wreck
day after wedded bliss
fender bender.
phone bills piling up
outgoing calls to the hapless whores of Arizona.
looking for answers,
I turned to the dictionary.
wanted to know
the difference
between
perspicacity and perspicuity
(because I am a pretentious whore
like that
and wanted you to know it)
flipped to the exact page
excitedly
knocked over a potted fern
and spent fifteen minutes
cleaning up discarded decay.
one year later…
happy.
never saw it coming.
glad it came.
glad he went away.
all that remains
are
blue skies, blue veins
and no restraint.
