poetic asides prompt


At Sharkey's on Glenwood
they've got steamers and

spiedies three for a dollar


The Last Time I Saw Richard

The last time I saw Richard

he was buttoning his fly

stowing rod and reel in boat's hold

after fishing illegal waters


he ignored no trespassing signs,

Wedding Day

It was a highly orchestrated,

carefully determined day and time,

and after the tirade in the temple

moved the money changers to Wall Street,

and after the Tower of Babel fell, and the

cacophy of voices rang out from the 

Upper East side, this was certainly the

perfect place, the only place for his wedding.


He stares into the sky, a hesitant

bridegroom awaiting his bride. Does she

come on the wings of a dove or by plane?

No, by now the skies are empty of

all but smoke and shiny confetti

Big Nose, Big Nose

The ex-husband's an artist. In

Needs No Sharpening

When daughter was in second grade

we were summoned to the school,

told she stuck out her tongue,

angry at something her teacher

Mrs. Stevens said.

Until Then

There was a time I might say until pigs can fly, but

given the state of bio-engineering these days

that could happen before we know it.


So I'll just say until we walk through the Taj  Mahal and

around the Arctic Circle, until I sit by your hospital

bedside twenty-two times longer than you've sat by mine,

until we dance at our grandsons' weddings, and we hold our

great-grandchildren in our arms, until the Yankees stop

winning the World Series, until you stop patting my

Pocahontas 2

Yesterday I did you a disservice,

creating a poem as dead and lifeless as

Annie Leibovitz's photo. But she's a

creative genius and I'm sure her

work was intentional, while mine came from

a slovenly get it done, deadline approaching mentality.


I Googled you on the Internet and the

information found may or may not be true; you know

there's no truth checking on the Internet. But I gave

myself poetic license to string pseudo-facts into

meaningless, artificial phrases and call it done.



Powhatan princess, you with the frolicsome

nature, run far, run fast and take Bambi

with you. See the ship on the horizon?

It carries measles, influenza,

whooping cough, diphtheria.

Deep in the hold, there’s bubonic plague,

typhus, cholera and scarlet fever.

Don’t look now, but your death is

arriving in blood and breath.


Ain't Got Much to Say

Aging is one thing after another falling apart.

I swore I would never be one of those old women

who discusses ad nauseum her aches and pains,

but really, what else is there to talk about?


I take Lisinopril for high blood pressure,

Premerin to stave off the heat from god's anvil.

My father's list of medications is as long as his arm.

Surgeries both inpatient and outpatient, physical therapy,

homeopathy, alternative medicines.

No one I know can read without glasses anymore.


Random Weird Person

Near river's edge outside the Cafe du Monde,

John Brown sets up his telescope.

It's taller than he is by a foot, and it

probably outweighs him, too.


I sip cafe au lait, wipe powered sugar

from off cheeks and nose,

staring into the darkness of

Jackson Square when a stranger steps

out of the past and into the light of a streetlamp.


Is it the hat, the hair, the long leather coat

the thinness of legs or chest that conjure up

miasmas of floating saloons on the

languid Mississippi?


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