Blog Archives

Quarantino

So, it seems I gave up coffee
And I WANT a cup RIGHT NOW
To return to a fresh-dripped state
Of magnificent equanimity
Seems six feet apart
Isn’t far enough away
You want meaningfulness
I just wanna play
So, Bob be a-singing
Right out of Delacroix
I earnestly proffer love praises
That only seem to clomp and annoy
Turning away to wash my hands
But I’m the only one here—
I’d rather my glass of merlot
To your frosty mug of beer.
But I’d wish to walk with you
Those years ago when we really loved,
But gotta change the kitty litter;
Thusly I’m now COVID-approved engloved!
Aqualung and I are looking for her
Far enough away to preserve the fantasy
Yet close enough to perturb the very air
Tossed tresses caressing languid eyes [oh so very fancy]
Back inside my little apartment
7PM Thursday in deliberate sub quarantino
Dreamt of eyes pulsing from behind a 95 mask:
This has got to end—momentum arresto!

Pas de Deux

Thought I’d write some blasted words
Of young love turned old and grey
And so I put on tangled up in blue
Hoping the muse would come past this away

But not much passes this way anymore
And all my exes eschew my zip code
Sometimes I’ll google a lady of the night
Hoping for just a little love a la mode

But after the passion storm abates
I’m still in Alexandria alone as ever
Maybe I can render this partitioned farce
Into another couplet fierce and clever

Or at least xomething polysyllabic
Or polyphonic to hold onto an AM radio past
So loaded up the merlot into the waiting glass—
Robert Zimmerman is such a blast

And DeGeneres can teach us to love one another
Without guile or an agenda smurfed and pc’d
But then she’s from New Wawlins, fer true—
Let’s squeeze a metaphor and make her bleed

So gel your foreign tense and parle
Come to Lafayette and pas de deux
Just passion danse on a dirt pad acadien—
You know you wanna two-step; yeah you do!

Following No One

I seem to be slouching
Forward onto my hospice bed
But I still remember my name
And I’m sure the cat’s been fed
But I can’t open the Just Tart Cherry
And the shoulder’s crap as per usual
All the Senators have stopped representing
Their polity with a calm and disdain casual
Tracked my keys into the box
Outside the box of what I can remember
Who I am and where I’m going—
I’m sure Fest Acadien is still in November
Pouring the second merlot
They say it’s good for my heart
I should move over to Alexandria
If I’d ever own what it is to be smart
Summter lingers on here is Austin
Need to replace the ac filter soon
I hope the rains pass soon
I wanna to see the Harvest Moon
But I know what’s coming
And I should get ready
But I’m so tired these days
And my thoughts are unsteady
To pack all this important stuff again
Boxes in boxes, memories in stiff cardboard
I had followed her here, a path made easy
But now to move for myself, O Lord
I’ll die here in Casablanca
Or any likely foreign shore
Not ready for the next chapter
Not alone, at least; not anymore
But time to let Jack out into the night’s stew
Hey Mr Tambourine Man
In the jingle jangle morning…

Invisible

I’m invisible,
No one sees me there;
Yes I’m invisible;
They can’t know how I hurt or that I care.
No I’m invisible,
Everyone can see right thru;
Just a wisp in the periphery
Lingering in shades of blue.
Are you invisible?
Where can you be?
Are you lonely too?
Would you like to get lost with me?
I am so invisible,
No one knows how if I care;
All can’t help but look on thru
As I fade away into the thinning Summer air.