Artist Lily

Artist Conjurer

Stand Render

Draw me a picture of

Passion long sore past

Of swift cold winds

From a north cold, fast

Outline the future

Bright or short

Of a Princess bold

Strong from Fablehaven court

Show cat’s curt tails curlicuing

Aloof lithesome beast

Awaiting the master servant

Next hot feast

Wonder with a line draft

Wine glass down and paintbrush raised

More ochre more fire more enscene

The next promise amazed

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Glass To Glass

A life grown smaller
Measured from glass to glass
Sunny days dimmer now
What horrors new shall pass?
Granpa passed today
The next soft soul rising to a sure heaven
Awaiting the next kickoff
Are we kneeling for our unseen clerk in 7-Eleven?
A chippy bite of merlot
Chartreuse green simmers in our glass
September signals the Fall
What horrors new will pass?
Matriculated on yonder Austin hill
Pray for the new generation
While preen we old and spent—
A history mitered in misty veneration
Are you masqueing this year?
Can’t we just get a pass?
Tiring of this asterisked year—
What new horrors are to pass?

Fathers’ Day In Quarantine

Ya know she smiles loud
Cuz she’s got all them teeth
But don’t take my word for it
I’m pretty far from beyond belief
All I truly know is better days coming week after next
I know this to be quite true
Cuz it says so in my daughter’s last text

Daughter conquers the days
With a lot more stress than I do
Pouring over hiragana squiggles
A looming test is messing with her artist’s do—
A perfect score in her Summer Japanese (!!!)
Brought my little brilliant girl
Down to her very studious knees!

Soon one far day she’ll marry
And support her brilliant kid’s studies
Skinned knees, broken arms,
Betrayal by once assumed close buddies.
And I’ll wish she finds all the joys
Such awesome women usually discover
Uncovering men buried inside hapless little boys

Tis quiet over on the cul-de-sac
‘Specially when I turn down my stereo
But it’s another Fathers’ Day
So turning Yes’ Starship Trouper to eleven, doncha know!
Singing along with the best dead rock stars
But what on Earth can we do—
We can’t go to restaurants, movies, or bars

An unassuming liquid red
Half fills this humble glass
Cabernet Sauvignon from over Sonoma way—
Wish I was sharing with my own sparkle-eyed lass.
But now time to rewash this mask:
Such varied fun in lockdown
Filled with this new time-worn vital task.

Yes please do come on over
To my wee cool place,
Always room in Alexandria
For one such as you and your happy pretty face!
We can play all the latest games,
Or uncover our darker tragedies,
Then smartly resolve them with neat effectual reframes!

Ya know he smiles loud
Cuz he’s got all them flossed teeth
But don’t take my word for it
I’m pretty far from beyond belief
All I truly know is better days coming week after another
I know this to be quite literally true
Cuz it says so in a text from my encouraging but distant brother

[PS Stay home, stay safe, practice the best proper social distance
Or may a gravid moose find relief in the spaces within your pants!]

Cordially

The light is failing
As are my eyes;
Put away all those becauses
That came with you lies.
Cordially,
We’d wet the drain;
I’m not all that sure
I ever want to see you again.
The year is ending,
As is my sentence down here.
How far to the river’s bend
And all that southern good cheer?
Smartly,
Stay in Kalamazoo:
A reunion in Cyprimont
Is all I will need of you.
My glass is empty
Just like my heart;
Were we really all over
Right from the start?

Five?

One glass gone
And my poetry’s weak
Two glass gone
It’s been a week
Three glass gone
I cannot speak
Another glass gone
Am I a freak?
I prefer a little Taylor
With my poignant Lennon
When you party
Who do you lean on?
Nope, no girlfriend
And, so I wine
Naw, no reason
[Put the stereo on ten] let’s all rock on!
One glass gone
Let’s radiate
Two glass gone
Obfusticate
Three glass gone
Prevaricate
Four glass gone
Hey, You, wait!
Who’d have guessed?
If I was depressed
We work in hospice
We’re all a bit stressed
But Sarah then flies free
We all applaud
Is it Summer all ready?
Oh, Lawd, Lawd, Lawd…
One glass gone
And my poetry’s freak
Two glass gone
Hide and seek
Three glass gone
I cannot speak
Another glass gone
I shouldn’t speak…

Wats Dere Looking For?

Does you see dem crows rousting in my lawn?
Can you tell me wats dere looking for?
Can you be my girl, I write so much better then?
But loud came the watercooler repairmen—
And chased away my better dream.
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
First glass gone,
Second glass, looming—
What “engrasse” provokes birds so?
Where’s true love, do you know?
I believe I need to find a Muse.
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
We’re gonna have a man’tory meetin:’
Number one billion ten thousand two-ish
Clearcommunicationiskey:
Wats it about? GO FISH!
I works in hospice,
Can’t ya see?
Another one active,
The other one only pre-
Does you see dem crows rousting in my lawn?
Can you tell me wats dere looking for?
Skeeters, beetles, crawlers creepy-oh!
If only us arachnids knew what was in store….

Wrong-Sized Glass

Sorry, I know it’s the wrong-sized glass
but it is a pretty nice red.
we can crack open this bottle
or go for walk instead.
usually just down to the gulch,
it matters not how far,
or maybe off to the zoo
we can take my old car.
I just want to spend some time
and get to know you better,
even though my stupid old cat
won’t want to meet your setter.

So, I’ll put the merlot up,
since you’ve turned me down.
I really wish for you the best
and hope to see you around town.
the old poet saved the page
and powered off his computer;
tomorrow to try again
imaging the life of a suitor—
heartbreak, in crisp 64 RAM,
meets: “I yam what I yam!”