July 27, 2010

Early Morning Thieves

Early morning thieves steal forth from Lockerbie

enticed by rumored mermaids to the east.

Their quiet passage briefly noted in the air

by the former lighthouse keeper,

too old to have anyone to warn.

His morning mug full of the squall

and tempests of yesteryear,

his heart stowing away in the knapsack

of the shortest roustabout.

He gathered no respect from his fellows

for his arm, nor for his steady countenance,

but for the unlikely sweetness of his singing voice.

The second eldest had even been known to note

the sway of his true love’s hips at the sound

of the demur one’s refashioned canticle.

Her heart, though, cannot be deterred

from its original path by some wayward beat.

She weeps into her laundry and sincerely

decries mermaids, merchants, and mercurial moods.

The leader of the expedition is unburdened

by such distractions. His knees bend only

for treasures, his eyes glint only

for the gleam of jewels and doubloons.

He is a veritable thieve, whilst the others

are at best humble connivers.

He cares not for lighthouse keepers,

lonely songs, or lovers, or even

lost mermaids, only the plunder

that might be had from such endeavors.

So the morning moves into day.

July 8, 2010


teaching little girls

to weave nooses

eat bugs

and carve totems

for future negotiation survival

gotcha right here in my pocket

my little survival list

for hurricanes

cold fronts

nonstandard-sized galoshes

and ill-timed invasions

(seriously? June?)

three fingers to the gods

“I will not capitulate

I will not perpetuate,

I will not allow less

than glossy-manual


please-thank you